


If Happiness starts with an H, why does mine start with U?

by oleanderedits



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lots of changes to order of events, M/M, Season 1/2 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-06-29 17:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15733677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderedits/pseuds/oleanderedits
Summary: After Flass warns Ed to stay away from Kristen, and Ed overhears her thanking the man because Ed is 'weird', Ed gets it in his head to prove to everyone that he is not as weird as they think he is. By finding someone to date him.





	1. Decisions.

**Author's Note:**

> Changes to canon for this AU: Most of the events of Season 1 take place in order, except the Flass and Dougherty stuff, and the whole killing Kringle thing. Edward never meets Oswald in person at the GCPD - he misses that reveal by being away at another crime scene - and while he's familiar with the names 'Oswald Cobblepot' and 'Penguin' from case files, he's never actually seen the man's picture, either. It was never relevant.  
> So Os is now the 'King of Gotham' and consolidating his power, Galavan hasn't quite made it to the scene at story start, and Ed's love-life woes have just now started to come to a head.

"Thank you. He's so weird," Kristen's words, though quiet at this distance, were still loud enough to be heard where he was standing just outside the door to the Evidence Room. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath to push past the embarrassment and shame that settled in his gut over being laughed at by those gorilla's and Kristen herself. She only thought he was weird because she'd never given him a chance to show her how good he could be. She just stopped him before he could talk to her properly. And she continued to date so many stupid oafs and hang out with Flass's crew and...

...and she wasn't interested in him. And probably would never be if he couldn't get her to open her eyes and see past that line of dumb assholes that surrounded her every day. But so far none of his small gifts or riddles or attempts at being friendly had worked. For a genius, he was running out of ideas. Part of the problem stemmed from the fact that he didn't have much in the way of close friends. Or any friends outside of the workplace. And really, not any inside it, either. Except, perhaps, Ms. Thompkins. She seemed to genuinely like him as a person. Which was nice. But she didn't seem interested in hanging out with him outside work and was dating Jim Gordon, besides.

Maybe if he could get a date with someone, that might change. Only, there was no one at the GCPD who was interested.

Except... what if it wasn't someone at the GCPD. 

Ed pushed his glasses back into place and frowned to himself as he walked back to his office. He wasn't sure when he'd precluded the possibility of seeing someone he didn't work with. No, wait, he did. When he met Kristen for the first time. She'd walked in, smiled at him in greeting, and he'd immediately stopped including any scenarios that didn't involve a workplace romance. Understandable, of course, if not particularly smart in the whole 'keeping options open' field.

He set the evidence folder he'd retrieved down and didn't bother opening it as he, instead, packed his bag with a few items and put on a coat. He hadn't taken lunch off yet today. Or any day, really. He pretty much always worked through them as he had no place to go and no one to take lunch with regardless. That was going to change today. He was going to prove to everyone that had been laughing at him since he got here that he wasn't incapable of having that coveted social status of being part of a couple. 

Even if he had to pay someone to pull it off.

*********

He spent the first half-hour of his lunch break mentally going over the many ways he could approach this. He'd have to be upfront with whomever he chose to ask so they wouldn't be inclined to laugh in his face right away. As his intent wasn't to have a 'real' relationship, just make his co-workers, and especially Kristen, understand that he could be a great partner if any of them actually gave him a chance, he wasn't particularly upset with himself over treating it as a business deal of sorts. It wasn't like he needed to prove anything to  _himself._  

Whoever he asked had to be friendly and willing to call him on their off hours, as well as at least once per day - well, once every few days at minimum so they didn't overdo anything - fairly randomly during his working hours when there was a chance of others noticing. They didn't have to come by in person, though. That might be too much to ask and had a very good chance of giving the game away if both of them weren't entirely on the same page about the miscellaneous details of how they met and what 'dates' they'd been on and such. Yes, the minutia a friendly inquiry required when face to face was too much of a risk and could easily lead to further humiliation from being caught in a lie. So no personal visits to work. Gifts instead. Small things a newly infatuated couple might realistically send each other: flowers, carry out from a favorite restaurant, an unobtrusive 'thinking of you' card.

Perfect. More details beyond that would have to be worked out with the person in question. But that was a good baseline of requirements to make any relationship seem believable.

Which left only the person. It would have to be someone no one was likely to run into on a regular basis on the off chance they might know the person. Someone who wasn't a slob, because there was no way Ed would possibly be involved with a person like that. Someone who was single. Someone who had time during the middle of the day to go out and have lunch together should anyone actually try to follow him in an attempt to call his bluff. And someone intelligent, preferably. Ed really didn't want to put up with someone with pedestrian intelligence for what he felt would have to be a two to three month commitment to be a believable attempt at a relationship.

After making those decisions, Ed headed to a part of town that wasn't exactly close to the precinct, but wasn't so far out of the way it would be a problem to get there for a short lunch date. Middle-middle class establishments. More likely to be frequented by people who were well enough off that they wouldn't need to be bribed too hard but not so well off that they'd laugh in his face and not so down-trodden they might try to blackmail him later down the line.

He decided to park on a street with three different delis and four 'ethnic' restaurants ranging from Hungarian to Soul. An eclectic bunch, to be sure, but all of them seemed fairly busy. The sort of place he could enter, discreetly ask anyone sitting alone if they wouldn't mind going out with him, and leave without drawing attention to himself should they be unreceptive to his offer.

He decided to check the delis first and immediately concluded they would not work. Not because there weren't enough people, but rather because there were too many. Too many eating alone. Which meant if he tried to go table to table, he'd look out of place and, well, weird. Which would likely get him kicked out and draw that unwanted attention.

After that, came the ethnic places. Starting with the one on the corner, he entered a moderately well lit bar and booth set up that advertised Russian fare. There were surprisingly few people here. All customers appeared to be men. Most of them had an unfriendly air and they all glanced up to look him over as he entered before mentally dismissing him and going back to their drinks or newspapers or meals. All but two of them - outside of those at the bar - were lunching with at least one other person. 

Ed hadn't exactly put a lot of thought into the physical characteristics of whomever he would get to date him, but of the two sitting alone, he figured the one in the well-pressed suit and eating neatly was the better option. He supposed he could put off the asking until another day, but as it was unlikely anyone would come looking for him at work and he still had another fifteen minutes before he had to hop back in his car, there didn't seem a point in delaying his first attempt at propositioning someone.

Still, even knowing all that, he did find himself feeling suddenly nervous. He had to press his hands to coat and smooth it out. Adjust his glasses. Gulp down some air. Push his shoulders back. And walk.

He stopped just past the table, did quick heel-ball turn, pulled out the chair opposite the man, sat down, smiled at the clearly flabergasted man, opened his mouth... and a riddle fell out: "What did the man get when he stole a calendar?"

The man's brows furrowed and he tilted his head, more confused than before, "Is that... is that a threat?"

"No! It's a riddle. Do you like riddles?"

He shook his head, "Not really..."

"Dates!" Ed announced, nearly cutting the man off and clapping his own hands a couple times, "I'm asking you on a date."

The man's jaw fell open slowly and he held a hand up. Only then did Ed notice the shadow of someone looming off to the side out the peripheral of his eye. He turned to look and one of the larger men who'd been near the rear of the establishment had come up to the table. He was looking just as confused as the man Ed had chosen to ask out, one hand hovering on the verge of touching Ed's shoulder.

The man glanced between Ed and the other man, though his hand fell away. Ed chanced a glance at the other man right as he made a 'back off' gesture and the presence at his side backed off. When Ed turned to watch him, the man had his hands up at his side as he was shrugging and sharing a 'I don't know what's going on' look with another large and brutish man who's hand was hovering near his waist, as if reaching for a weapon.

Ed turned back to his chosen companion and gulped down a smile. Clearly he had chosen someone far more important than he'd originally intended. Oh dear.


	2. Deals.

Once Butch had backed off and the strange man had his attention where it should be, he schooled his expression into a smile. It was not wholly a false one. He was just a tad bit flattered at the poor attempt to appeal to his ego by whoever had sent this imbecile. Asking him on date out of the blue was certainly a new tactic to try and get him to drop his guard.

"You want to go on a date," he repeated slowly, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a sip while chuckling lightly, smile still firmly in place, "With me?"

The man was more visibly nervous now that he'd realized how close he'd been to being thrown out- or worse. Clearly he was new to the game. His fidgeting gave that away. Oswald had to wonder if he knew exactly how much danger he was in. 

"Well, that is," he gulped down and shook his head, apparently deciding to double-down on whatever game he'd been sent to play, "Yes. I would."

Oswald stared at him for a long moment, amused, then set his glass back down and leaned back in his chair, hands going to his lap to fold his napkin up, "Who sent you?'

"Sent me? I- no one. I... why would someone send me to ask you out?" The man leaned forward on the table, head tilted and looking genuinely confused. Oswald may have misjudged him. The nervousness might be an act.

"Really? he asked, brows raising. "No one sent you? You just... what? Saw me and decided 'that's the one. I want to go out with him.'?"

"Well, actually... yes," the man nodded firmly and linked his fingers together, hands resting on the cloth in what looked like an effort to keep them from moving around too much. He gluped again and nodded a second time. "I do admit it's not because I find you attractive. Which is not to say you aren't!" he tacked on when Oswald's smile became an immediately insulted glare. "Just not one of the qualifications of why I picked you. You see, I need to date someone. There's this person... a woman I work with... who Is... well, it's not just her, but she's the one I- what I mean to say is I need someone to pretend to date me so my coworkers will stop making fun of me for being too weird to be in a relationship."

The glare faded as Oswald took that in. He blinked a couple times. Shifted in his seat to turn around and look at the entrance to the shop, scan the room, then back to the man in front of him. His head tilted rather sharply to the right and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he considered this. As much as he didn't trust most people as far as he could throw them, this man gave off the impression of telling the truth.

He blinked a couple more times before taking another drink. When he set his glass down again, he idly started to spin it by the stem, "Do you even know who I am?"

The man's mouth fell open before he shut it with a snap and ducked his head, shaking it, "Uh, no. I'm sorry. I just... Uh, Ed."

"You think my name's Ed?"

"No. My name," he put a hand against his chest and adjusted his glasses with the other. "...is Ed. Edward Nygma."

Oswald signaled for his drink to be refilled and sat up straight, folding his arms on the table as he leaned forward, his smile returning, "Os-" he cut himself off with a laugh. "You can call me Os."

If this man really didn't know who he was, well, this little ploy of his could genuinely be fun. A minor distraction when he wasn't embroiled in the politics of making all the gangs acknowledge his hold over the former Maroni and Falcone empires.

"It's nice to meet you, Os," the man replied, smiling himself and relaxing a bit. "I apologize for any... misunderstandings about my intentions your private security seems to have had. I'm not very good at this whole... thing."

"Yes, that's very clear," Oswald hmm and let out a little giggle. "So what do you have in mind for this whole... deception you have planned for your coworkers?"

Ed's face lit up and he sat up straighter, "You'll do it then?"

Oswald shook his head no, "I'll consider it. But I have to know the terms. Should word get out about us, I have to know that you're the right kind of person for me to be seen with. I'm rather important."

"Oh..." Ed's face fell and he was back to twining his fingers to keep them from moving. He forced a smile back on and nodded. When he spoke next it was like he was trying to impress an employer at a job interview. Which wasn't that far off, really.

"You already know my name. I have a Masters in Forensic Science and have had several papers published while I was in college. I haven't decided if I'll get a Doctorate yet. I find having to 'learn' from those less knowledgeable than I just to get a written document stating what I already know to be true a tedious future I'd rather avoid. Though I cannot simply ignore how much having that document could improve my career and respect of my peers. It is not, however, a priority at the moment. I have a steady job as a forensics investigator for the GCPD. I don't get out in the field much, I'm usually off in my office doing analysis of various data. The pay isn't the best, but it's good work and while it doesn't get the flashy and headline-grabbing attention the detectives do. it is one of the most important jobs in the department. They wouldn't be able to solve any cases without me. Oh! Are you alright?!"

Oswald had been taking another drink when the man said he worked for the GCPD. It was good for Ed that he had been as it gave him the time to continue speaking and explain himself while Oswald choked a bit and ended up coughing. Ed was just in the process of standing up to come around the table when Butch made it to his side and the rest of his crew had their guns half-way out.

"I'm fine!" he spit out, tossing a glare at Butch and snarling before he managed to calm himself. Butch took the hint and backed off, as did the rest of his men. Ed seemed to have noticed the threat to his life as he slowly sat down, eyes wide and tension in every line of his body.

Oswald drew his attention by clearing his throat, smile back in place, "So sorry about that. Wrong pipe."

"The trachea, yes," he gulped and nodded, a nervous grin returning, "Did you know that over 30 muscles have to move into place in under a second for you to swallow properly? What happens is that while you aren't consciously thinking about eating, drinking, or swallowing, your body is aware of what you're doing - most of the time - and it's making sure whatever you have is small enough to move to the back of your throat with your tongue and then down the esophagus. For that to happen, your esophagus opens at the same time your voice box elevates to close off the trachea. The two are usually reversed, with the esophagus closed and the trachea open. Once they've switched, the muscles in your throat push the food or liquid down much in the same way a snake will consume it's- and I should shut up now, shouldn't I?"

"That would be good," Oswald agreed. Not because what he was saying wasn't fascinating - it was and it wasn't. The topic was nothing short of forgettable to Oswald. But the way the man rattled off the facts without having to pause to think was more than a little interesting. And Oswald was more than certain at this point that he wasn't trying to con him. He was just rather terrible about how to be properly sociable. 

"So um... if you don't mind me asking, what is it you do, Os?" Edward interrupted his thoughts and Oswald had to take a moment to compose himself further and decide if he would continue to play along.

"Let's go with Real estate," he finally answered. "Landlord is such a... pedestrian word for what I do. But I own properties. Like this one. Many of them. And many of my locations are highly sought after. What I'm saying is, I'm sorry about the security. It's been a rough time lately with all the... ups and downs."

"With the gang wars and the crime families trying to claim territory," Edward added on, accepting the explanation and filling in the blanks for himself with lightning speed. "With all the gang wars and mafia activity having well-armed security is important and- mafia. This is Maroni's old territory. It was taken over by the Falcone's after his death and then by the Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot after the disappearance of-" Ed's eyes met Os's, his mouth gaped and he swallowed hard. "Os-Oswald Cobblepot. Th-the Penguin. I am so sorry. I swear I didn't know. I would never have-"

Oswald started laughing. A genuine laugh that cut off Ed's stammering. The man was very quick at puzzling out the details once given even half a clue. He liked it.

"We have a deal," he declared, taking Ed by surprise. 

"A deal?"

"Yes. I'll date you. Why not? It'll be fun." And having a forensics investigator afraid of him and under his thumb could be quite useful.


	3. Delivery.

Ed made it back to work so, so, _so_ much worse for wear. Mentally. Which spilled a little into his physical countenance, but mostly just made him jittery and excessively, visibly nervous. Not that most of the brainless idiots in the precinct actually noticed anything as he hurried back to his office - late! He'd tried to get away from the Penguin as soon as he could, but the man insisted he stay and hash out the details and now he was a good forty minutes overdue for a simple hour's long lunch break. 

"Nygma!" Captain Essen's voice caught him off guard as he hurried past her office and toward the Forensics hall. He came to an immediate stop and turned sharply to face her, plastering on his best smile and hoping he didn't look too guilty about being late.

Fortunately (unfortunately?) she didn't seem to notice anything off, her face tilted down while she went through a file folder. A moment later she closed it and held it out to him, "Take this back to evidence, will you? And how's the Biter Case coming along?"

"The Biter Case? Oh!" Ed pushed his glasses up his nose and took the offered file, "You mean the McKinley Case."

"Yeah," she answered dryly. "That one."

"Nothing new so far. I'm waiting on the lab results for two of the victims to come back. Shouldn't be more than another two hours. You'll have it on your desk as soon as I get them."

"Good, thanks," she nodded and started to spin on her heel. Then paused, "And don't let me catch you being late back from lunch again.  I expect better from you."

Ed floundered a moment with his response before shaking his head in agreement, "Of course. My apologies. I got held up unexpectedly and- But I won't let it happen again."

The Captain gave him a 'see that you don't' look and went back into her office, leaving Ed to clutch the file folder to his chest as he hurried off toward evidence. Once out of sight of everyone he let himself visibly seethe as he muttered to himself, " _Don't be late. I expect better than you._ As if the rest of the stupid oafs aren't always late and stepping out. I do it once- once!- in the last three years working here and suddenly I'm the world's biggest disappointment. Funny how you only notice my single failure and never any of the work I do or how I'm always on time and always working through my breaks and always staying late. But I take my break and get held up and now I'm worse than anyone else in here."

He stopped short of the evidence room door and forced himself to take a deep breath. It wouldn't do to look angry in front of Kristen. She didn't deserve his ire in the way so many others did. Just because she was blinded by her affections for certain imbecilities, it didn't mean he should take his anger out on her.

"Ms. Kringle! I have the-" Ed cut himself off as he opened the door and found the room empty. "Oh. I suppose asking where to put this isn't necessary. I'll just... file it in your semi-efficient system."

He did so with little fanfare, lingering, alone, in the room for several minutes on the off-chance Kristen would return. But she didn't, of course. Was probably out on her own break somewhere with Detective Flass. With a sigh, Edward left the room and headed back to his office. The panic he'd had earlier replaced with a depressive melancholy. 

*********

The panic didn't return until two days later when a small bouquet of flowers arrived for him. He was unfortunately in the Bullpin retrieving some files on the side of the room opposite the Captain's office when the delivery girl walked in. She was popping some gum and holding the vase up with little regard for it save that it remained upright. 

"Delivery for Nygma? Edward Nygma?" she called out in a bored, 'god let this day be over with' voice and the entire room ground to a sudden, deafening silence. Every person there turned to stare at her, and then, more slowly, at Ed.

Ed's shoulders hunched and he ducked his head as he hurried over to her, his murmur of 'that's me' far too loud in the room devoid of it's usual hustle and bustle. To his relief, it was the rest of the room that the girl looked to as if they were a bunch of weirdos and not Edward as he accepted the delivery. And that, really, was as it should be. After all, it was just flowers. Nothing to be surprised about.

He began shuffling off as fast as he could toward his office, but wasn't fast enough to avoid Flass who snatched the vase from him and spun around so he couldn't easily retrieve it.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he laughed, the rest of the bullpin joining in before settling down enough so they could hear whatever the Detective was going to say. "Flowers and a card for the freak?" He kept moving about to keep the vase out of Ed's hands as he teased, "Did you send yourself flowers?"

"No! Give them back!" he hissed, still unable to get a grip on the bouquet enough to pull it back to him.

"Awww, really? Let's see who sent them then," Flass tugged the card out of the vase and surprised Ed by shoving the glass and flowers right into his chest, causing him to stumble backwards and nearly fall over. The room laughing at him once more.

Flass opened the envelope and read in a saccharine sweet tone, " _My dearest Edward_ \- oooooh he's a _dearest_ -  _we do not yet know each other well enough for me to have learned your favorite flowers so I hope you will not be disappointed with the lilies. They're my mother's favorite and thus I have a soft spot for them. In any case, know that I am thinking of you and looking forward to tonight. My fondest thoughts, Os._ "

Flass gasped as the laughter in the room became a roar full of catcalls and whistles. When they quieted down, he held the note out to Ed with a laugh, "Nice touch there, Freak. Didn't sound like you at all. Have fun with Ms. Rosie Palm tonight."

Ed snatched the note out of Flass' hand and clutched the vase tightly, the files he'd come for forgotten for the moment as he scurried away to hide himself in his office. That was not how it was supposed to go! They were supposed to be impressed, in awe, of the fact that someone was interested in him. Not accuse him of spending the evening involved with his own hand. 

This was all Flass' fault. If he hadn't been there, they would have stayed quiet, curious and thoughtful, as he disappeared. And then they'd whisper about it and word would get back to Kristen and then she'd be interested in him because she'd seen him in a new light. That was what was supposed to happen. That had been the point of the flowers coming.

And now that was ruined and he was even more of a laughing stock.

He picked up the vase and hauled his arm back, ready to throw it when a knock at his door startled him. He ended up dropping the whole thing and it shattered loudly on the floor. 

"Ed? Are you okay?" The door opened and Leslie stepped through, eyes wide with worry. Her gaze darted from him to where he was staring at the ground in shock and then her hand came up to her mouth with a gasp. "Did I cause that? I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you!"

"It- it's okay. Accidents happen," he stammered in an attempt to reassure her even as they both knelt down to start picking up the broken glass.

Leslie moved most of the pieces she had over to him before taking the bouquet carefully in hand, "I'll get these back in water. Really, Ed, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, really. I have no place for the vase anyway," he said, lying, but only because he'd been about to destroy it himself. It didn't take very long for the rest of the mess to be cleaned up. When it was, Leslie was standing, trying to arrange the lilies nicely in a large beaker that was otherwise not in use.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, "What was it that you needed me for?"

"Oh! Nothing," she smiled, laughing and ducking her head while she pushed some hair behind an ear. "Well, nothing work-related. Jim and I just got back from lunch and Harvey told us someone had sent you flowers. I wanted to congratulate you on your new relationship."

This surprised him. Not that Leslie was being so kind about it, but that she wanted to congratulate him and apparently hadn't assumed he'd been the one to send them to himself. That was... that was nice. It made his heart flutter a little and he couldn't help the very real blush and embarrassed smile from gracing his cheeks.

"Ah well... thank you. Os said he was going to send a reminder about our date, but he didn't say it'd be with flowers," he replied, only half-lying. He'd known the flowers were coming, but he'd thought he'd be in his office when they did and he could force the whole thing to be a mystery to the rest of the precinct.

"His name is Os?"

He shook his head, then spun on a heel to grab the note card and hold it out to her, "He didn't know what kind to get me. But apparently these are his mother's favorite."

Leslie took the card and moved a step closer to him, grinning from ear to ear in a shared happiness, "That is so sweet of him. Where are you guys going?"

"Going?"

"For the date," she swatted him on the arm in a playful manner as she walked back to the bouquet and carefully tucked the card amongst the blooms.

Ed shrugged, folding his arms to keep them still, "I don't know. He said he wanted to surprise me. He's uh, he owns a few restaurants and said he'd like to take me to his favorite."

Leslie's mouth fell open in an excited gasp, "He  _owns_ restaurants. As in more than one?"

At Ed's enthusiastic head shake, Leslie laughed happily, "Wow, Ed. Where'd you meet this guy?"

"At one of his restaurants, actually. I went in for lunch a couple days ago and we... we hit it off."

"When you were late getting back!" she declared, putting two and two together almost as fast as Edward could. But then, office romances seemed to be an interest of hers. She moved back to his side and put a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly, "Good for you, Ed. Tell me how it goes on Monday, okay? Promise?"

He nodded, "I will. Thank you."

As she left, his grin was as wide as hers and just as honest. He did, now, feel a little guilty about breaking the vase, but he also felt a hell of a lot better about his plan. Leslie was one of the kindest people in the precinct and her and Kristen got along really well. They could probably be called friends. So if Leslie was excited for him, then she was sure to start spreading it around that Ed had a real date with an actual person and hadn't just bought himself flowers to fool everyone.


	4. Date.

Oswald was rather pleased to see Edward already at the restaurant, sitting and waiting for him, Gabe off to one side trying to be unobtrusive. He'd sent his man around to pick his date up an hour earlier than previously arranged just to make sure the man didn't succumb to any last minute cold feet regarding their deal. The whole scenario being new to Oswald as a form of manipulation notwithstanding, he did at least have enough experience with newcomers to the business trying to skip out when they realized just how deep they'd dipped their toes.

"My friend!" he greeted Edward, moving at a casual pace toward the table. "I apologize for being such a terrible host. Keeping you waiting all this time."

"Not at all!" Ed said back, some nervousness clear in how he stood up and clenched his hands together like he didn't know what to do with them. He was dressed in what probably passed as his best suit. A tragedy of fashion that would have to be rectified should Oswald decide to take this game further and indulge in entertaining the man at a finer establishment. 

After a moment's hesitation, Ed scurried around the table and pulled out Oswald's chair. Like they were actually on a date and he was trying to be polite. Well, Oswald supposed it didn't matter who did the chair pulling: Edward or one of his men. It was the same outcome regardless in that Os didn't have to do it himself.

"Thank you," he smiled up at Ed after he'd sat down and the man hurried back to his own seat. 

Ed cleared his throat and pushed his glassed up his nose, returning the smile, "Since I was waiting, I took the liberty of ordering a small appetizer and a drink. The drink I've had refilled a few times, but I asked that the kitchen not make the appetizer until you arrived so it could come out fresh. I hope that's okay?"

Oswald lifted an eyebrow. The man really was treating it like an actual date. Well, he supposed he could play along for a bit. Until the food got there and they could get down to business of arranging the first real exchange of favors. 

"It's fine. I enjoy all the food here so I'm sure whatever you picked will be to my taste," he reassured his date, lying through his teeth. In actuality, the food here was only passing fair. They could make a decent veal parmigiana and knew his taste in wines so he could at least get something he could sit through. The point of coming to this place wasn't the food or the atmosphere. It was that it was protected from prying eyes and security was already tight because of how much money got laundered through it.

 "Wonderful! I ordered the ricotta, tomato, and prosciutto bruschetta. It sounded simple and easy on the stomach. No onions," Ed rattled off, smoothing his napkin carefully on the table before folding it precisely in half on the diagonal and placing it in his lap. "I don't really like onions. Not cooked, anyway. I don't mind them too much when they're in a raw mix like a simple pico de gallo. The flavors are all jumbled up in a way that becomes oddly pleasant. But when cooked..." he shook his head, frowning momentarily, "it stands out too much and is, as my co-workers might put it, 'nasty'." 

Edward continued like that, filling the silence with small talk related to food and cooking, particularly the history of various menus items as he tried to decide what to get. Oswald let him. The kitchen already knew what he liked and when the appetizer came out - which was surprisingly okay for what Oswald considered a poor man's fancy fair - it was only Edward who placed an order for Pollo al Forno. 

In the lull between the waiter leaving and Edward taking a drink of his wine, Oswald broached the main reason for getting together so soon. Sure, they had hashed out the basic expectations of the arrangement Ed was looking for upon their first meeting, but it had been mostly a short and sweet thing with the man getting more and more agitated at how long it was taking because he had to get back to work. So they'd agreed their first 'date' would be more of a business meeting and informal contract negotiation to get the details hashed out.

"You got the flowers?" Oswald began, leaning forward on one arm as the table was cleared.

Ed nodded, smiling brightly, "Oh yes! Thank you!" and then his face fell and he cringed, "I really appreciate the card and all, but next time, could you, perhaps, not send them in such an... Well, I can only presume it was somewhat expensive. It looked it. I... I can happen to a bone, a home, and a heart, what am I?"

Oswald felt his mouth drop and had to blink a couple times, the riddle ridiculously easy even without the context of obvious guilt, "You're telling me you broke the vase?"

"I dropped it," Ed said, voice small, shoulders tucking in to make him look smaller, head down. "I'm sorry. But the lilies were lovely. Ms. Thompkins put them in a beaker for me while I cleaned up the mess. She's the Medical Examiner. She caught me by surprise and... but she thought the flowers were sweet, too. And the card was-."

"Shut up," Oswald cut him off. Edward's attempt to soften the blow the only thing making the Penguin more upset. He didn't care about the vase. It hadn't been anything close to ridiculously expensive, even if it had been the most costly part of the bouquet. To have it shattered so soon after delivery was, frankly, ridiculous. But it was nothing in both the short and long term. "You've already apologized I don't need excuses."

"Right. Sorry," he murmured before blurting out: "Moluccella laevis. Bells of Ireland. Summer annuals. Not actually native to Ireland. They're from the Caucasus, but are considered to mean 'luck' in the general language of flowers most well known today. Usually used as an accent in bouquets due to it's green color and the way the flowers cluster along a stem."

Oswald had to stare a moment as he titled his head, "Excuse me?"

"Bells of Ireland. My favorite flower. Insofar as having a favorite go, if I had to choose, I'm rather fond of them."

It wasn't so much a change of topic as it was an unexpected segue back to the original topic. Oswald considered for a moment before waving it off, "I'll keep that in mind. Now, why don't we discuss what we came here to? As you can tell I'm perfectly fine with scheduling deliveries for small mementos of... 'affection' to your work place. And can do so once or twice a week, or whatever frequency you prefer. The 'dates' we'll need to set up are fine for a weekly sort of meeting. However I'm not exactly fond of the idea of calling you just to make a random call that might happen to get noticed."

Edward nodded along, "Right. About that. I'm not sure that phone calls at this time are a good idea. I've already told one co-worker that you're a restaurateur. Well, I indicated that you owned several restaurants, which is enough for anyone with brains to make that assumption. Which means it's easy to assume you're incredibly busy throughout the day and don't have the time to speak over the phone. The gifts sent to the precinct should suffice as tokens of your esteem to continue the ruse. I should, however, probably have a phone number in my phone that I can reach you at just to show I have a contact. It doesn't have to be your real number, of course. A burner phone should be fine. I was thinking one that automatically goes to voice mail in case anyone... manages to get a hold of my phone and get curious. It's highly unlikely to happen, but I do work with a lot of very nosy people. It comes with the job."

"That can be arranged," Oswald lifted his hand and waved Butch over from where he was quietly watching the door but not close enough to eavesdrop as he'd been ordered. When he got to the table, Os asked him for an unused burner and was offered three to choose from. He picked one at random and ordered Edward to give Butch his own. Then told Butch that the burner would now be exclusively used to contact Ed and the number for it put into Edward's phone under the name 'Oz'. Once that was done, the burner was handed over to Gabe.

"Gabe will be your primary contact for me. He's good at acting the part of personal assistant. Should you need to contact me for any reason, or have need of his services, you can call him. You will not be a priority for him, but he'll answer or get back to you when he's otherwise not occupied with business."

Edward's phone was given back to him a moment later and Butch returned to his post. He wasn't thrilled with Oswald's current choice of association. As Oswald didn't want it to get out he was 'dating' even via rumors, he'd simply informed the man that as far as he and anyone else was concerned, the meetings with Mr. Nygma were simply them working out a mutually beneficial business arrangement.

"As for your part of the arrangement, I understand you'd prefer to keep your job out of this, but I really do need to gain something out of this or it does me no good," he reminded his dinner partner, who had been insistent at their first meeting that he really didn't want to act as a mole when it was well known Penguin had a lot of moles already. Which was true. He'd inherited quite a few upon taking the throne of Gotham's underworld. But they were all ones established by his predecessors. He had no real way of knowing who would actually prove to be loyal to him simply because they continued to be bought off. He needed new ones he felt he could trust to keep a deal. Edward's own social anxiety about having to pay someone to go out with him just to prove something to those he worked with was an unconventional embarrassment to exploit, but not one Oswald was at all above. And it was far cheaper than most of the payoffs he'd had to do so far.

"I can't bring you files," Ed answered immediately. "I'm only really allowed to handle the ones for the cases I'm working on or someone asks me to take a look at just to do a fact check. And I don't have unconditional access to the records or evidence room. That's not how things in my position work. If I brought you the sort of files you've asked me to, they would all point back to me regardless of how clean they were of prints."

Oswald frowned, his glare worsening even as Ed lifted his hands to plead for the time to continue talking.

"But as it happens, I have a perfect memory. I can't forget anything once I've seen, read, or heard it. So if I do have time alone with some files that are not cases I'm working on, I can later transcribe them and have them sent over. It just can't be any cases I'm working on. I'm fine with possibility of implicating anyone else, but I don't want to risk my own position. I enjoy my job and I really don't want to learn how poorly I'd do behind bars. I'm fully aware of my shortcomings in the physical sense."

"A perfect memory? Really? That's quite the claim," Oswald commented, not hiding his skepticism. An excellent memory, he was perfectly willing to believe. Edward had shown as much already with all the little details he'd spit out when he was nervous or wanted to fill the void of a silence. But a perfect one? That was rare enough as to be nearly impossible. Not completely, just nearly.

"I try not to make a habit of lying."

"And yet, here you are. Lying to your coworkers."

"It's only a... technical lie. We are, for all intents and purposes on a date. The reason we 'hit it off' as well as we did doesn't need to be gone into... Look, I'm lying to them, not to you. There's no point in doing so."

Oswald laughed, his smile mocking and Edward was very obviously upset by it. He didn't like to be made fun of. Another thing to use against him if needed. "Well," Os said, pulling back on the laughter a bit, "We'll just have to test that claim. You pass and I won't ask you to bring copies of the files I require when I require them. You fail, and you'll simply have to figure out how to get them to me in a timely manner."

"What kind of test?"

"A test of memory, of course. I'll make the arrangements and-"

"Boss," Butch interrupted, stomping up next to him and leaning down to whisper in his ear so Edward couldn't hear, "Trouble with the boys down at Dock 43. They're saying they ain't gonna talk to anyone but you about the taxes. Jake says they ganged up on him and Tony and Tony isn't going to be walking any time soon."

"You realize I'm in the middle of a meeting, don't you?"

"Yeah, but Dock 43 is where the..." Butch glanced over his shoulder at Edward who's eyes darted back down to his lap as he pretended he hadn't been trying overhear, "Where we been processing the 'imports' From Metroplis."

Right. The guns. 

"Fine. Pull the car around," he growled, waving Butch away and straightening his jacket. Annoyed at the meeting being cut short because idiots decided to try stepping out of line. 

The food arrived just as Oswald stood up, "We'll have to try this another time. Enjoy your dinner." He glanced at the waiter, "Take mine back. I won't be staying."

He left Ed sitting there without a backward glance.

*********

Two days after that, on Sunday afternoon, while he was in the middle of an interrogation session with one of the men from the Diamond District, aluminum bat doing nicely to emphasis his point, Gabe walked in with a bouquet of purple stargazer lilies.

"Delivery for you boss. No tricks. I picked them up from the shop myself," he said, ignoring the shocked and confused looks from most of the people in the room. He held them out to Penguin and then pulled a card out of his pocket, "This goes with 'em."

Penguin took the card first, holding the bat out for Butch to take. He waved his fingers, indicating his right hand could continue the interrogation, while he opened the envelope and pulled the card out. It had a time, a date, and an address and nothing more. He looked over at Gabe, not sure if he should be angry yet or not, "Who sent it?"

"Your boyfriend," Gabe answered with a grin, still holding the flowers out as all activity in the room came to a halt, oblivious to the sort of implications his announcement would have. "That Ed guy. Called me this morning and asked me to pick 'em up for you. Said he'd like to make up for Friday if that's okay."

"Ed is  _not_ by boyfriend," Penguin hissed out, marching up to Gabe and getting into his personal space as he grabbed the flowers and yanked them out of the man's grip. "He is a business associate. Nothing more."

Gabe put his hands up, "Sure thing. Sorry. My mistake."

Os gave him a good thirty-second stare down before he moved away and finally took the time to look over the bouquet. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was nicely done. And thoughtful considering that Edward only knew Oswald was fond of the flowers due to his mother's own preference. Choosing purple ones had been a nice touch. 

"Butch," he called out, just a bit louder than he needed to be in the silence, "Have tomorrow's evening meeting pushed back to Tuesday. I have another appointment to make."

"What about Florence?"

"She's still in the basement, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I don't see why she won't be fine waiting to lose her toes one more night. Might even convince her to loosen that tongue of hers before Zsasz does."

"Sure thing, Boss." He held the bat out for Penguin to take it back.

He waved it off with a shake of his head, focused instead on the flowers and card which had been entirely unnecessary but were, all in all, a pleasant surprise, "You're doing fine. If he doesn't talk in the next twenty minutes, break both legs. If never walking again doesn't convince him, then you can kill him."


	5. Details.

"So," Leslie said, drawing out the 'o' long enough for her to enter the room and siddle up to the desk to sit on it's edge, "How did it go?"

Ed blinked a couple times and then gave a bashful laugh. She'd remembered that she'd made him promise to tell her all about it on Monday. He'd almost forgot about that in his planning for the coming night's event. He'd been too focused on getting everything right and hoping Oswald wouldn't stand him up for his audacity. Not for asking for the re-do, but the manner in which it had been sent.

Before he could answer, there was a knock on the door and Kristen was peeking her head in, "Mr. Nygma?"

"Ed, please," he replied automatically, sitting up straighter, a pleasant feeling of surprise running through him at Kristen seeking him out.

"Right," she nodded as she stepped inside, a small bundle of flowers in her hand that could barely pass as a bouquet.  She held them out, "Um, these just arrived for you. I signed for them if that's okay?"

"Bells of Ireland," Ed murmured, frozen for a moment in genuine surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"Bells of Ireland," he repeated, louder and with some excited nervousness as he stood up. "The flowers. They... I told Os about them on Friday." He moved over to take them, giggling a bit at how every detail of this delivery was next to perfect. "And there's no vase to break this time, either. He..."

He put thought into it.

Ed was wrapped up enough in the flowers he almost missed the exchange of looks between Lee - excited - and Kristen - confused. But he did and chose to turn his attention to Lee instead of Ms. Kringle. Lee was the one acting genuinely happy for him.

"I told him about the accident with the first delivery and what my favorite flowers are and here he is, sending me them without a vase so I don't have anything to knock over. The ribbon's even the same shade of green as the Bells are," he enthused, moving to show them off to her.

A second later he was looking at Kristen, who had made her way further into the room, "Was there a card with them? Or was it just the flowers? Last time he sent a card."

She shook her head and bit at her bottom lip, coming ever closer in her curiosity, "No. Just the flowers. So... Your, um... boyfriend... sent them to you? I heard something last week about it but there was a lot of mixed information. You know how rumors go."

He nodded, pleased that his ploy seemed to be working. Now that she'd personally seen him get flowers and seen Lee acting like it wasn't a trick, she was interested. She wasn't seeing him with completely new eyes, but she was on the path to doing so.

"Yes. He was confirming our date and... I expect he's using these to confirm the one we're having tonight."

"A second date already?" Lee jumped up and put her hands on his arms, grinning ear to ear, "So the first went great, obviously! So tell us!"

"Well, actually," he grimaced and scurried around the table to find a beaker to put the flowers in safely, "It was cut short. He got a phone call right when the main course arrived and it was, apparently, urgent. The food was okay. Not the best. He said he'd recently bought it and thought it had potential. So it wasn't really one of his best ones. Just..."

Ed turned around to find both Lee and Kristen giving him sympathetic smiles. So he plastered a larger one on his face to dissuade any thoughts that he was unhappy with the experience. Well, at least not so unhappy that he took issue with it in any real way. "So I invited to dinner at my place to make up for it! Tonight. I'm going to cook for him."

"You cook?" Kristen asked, voice soft and eyebrows rising in actual interest. He made a note that she seemed to like that.

"Yes. I enjoy it. It's a hobby," he blushed and ducked his head, hands finding themselves occupied with each other at his chest to keep them under control. "I was thinking I'd make him the meal he missed on Friday. But then I thought that might come off like I'm trying to insult his investment. So then I was thinking maybe something with lamb. Everyone likes lamb, right?"

"Absolutely," Lee agreed, "Will you have time to make it, though?"

He nodded, "Yes. It's lamb shanks. With roasted garlic and leeks crusted with bacon. I'm not sure if I should glaze it, though." Edward looked to the two of them, hoping for a suggestion on that. As much as this was a date to make it clear he was actually dating to his co-workers, he did want it to go well.

Kristen was the first to speak up and she shook her head, "I don't think so. It sounds delicious as it is."

Ed couldn't help beaming at that praise. Kristen liked the idea of the meal. Maybe he could make it for her sometime. After an appropriate recovery period following the break up with Oswald. Yes. He made another mental note.

Any further discussion was cut off by Bullock and Gordon walking in unannounced. They stopped just inside the door, taking a moment to realize that Ed wasn't alone. 

"Well, guess we know where the party is," Gordon joked as Lee crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek.

He turned to them, smiling politely, "Yes Detectives? Is there something you needed?"

Kristen quietly excused herself and Lee followed while Bullock held out a stack of files. The man watched the two of them go, looking perplexed and leaving Gordon to do the speaking.

"We need you to go over these files for us. See if you can find anything that looks odd. You're good at finding patterns. We need to see if there are any."

"Yeah," Bullock chimed in, finally coming back to the present, "We aren't sure if they're connected or not, though. All of them are unsolved murders in the last two years and they're similar enough to one we got called on this weekend. But it doesn't mean they have anything in common."

"Of course," Ed took the stack. "I'll get right on them. Tomorrow."

Both of them went still, pausing in the door as they'd been turning around. Gordon frowned, "We kind of need these gone over as soon as possible, Ed."

"Yes, I'm sure you do," he replied, adjusting his glasses. "But I have four other cases to go over before I get off work today. All of which take priority."

"You can't stay late? Don't you like that sort of thing?" Bullock asked, his hands going to his hips. He and Ed had never really gotten on all that well, but until now he'd thought the detective a little less obtuse than that.

Edward's smile pressed into a thin line and he shrugged, "Normally I would, but I have plans tonight. I have... a date."

Bullock's eyes went wide as he blinked in disbelief and Gordon snorted at his partner's reaction. Gordon was the one to slap Harvey's arm to get him moving as he nodded, "Yeah. Tomorrow then. Have fun, Ed."

"Thank you, Detective!"

The door was swinging shut when Bullock's stage whisper filtered back through, "Can you believe that? Him? A date? Universe does have a sense of humor."

Whatever Gordon may have said in response was cut off by the door clicking shut. Leaving Ed alone in his office. Frozen. Hurt and rage causing him to grip the files a little too tightly. When he came back to his senses he found he'd twisted them quite terribly.

"Oh crud."

*********

 Ed had everything on the table at one minute 'til eight. Two minutes after the clock ticked over, there was a loud knock. He hurried over and pushed his door to the side. Oswald stood there with two of his men flanking him. The men had their backs to the door and were already standing guard. 

Oswald smiled up at him and glanced over his shoulder at the two, "Don't worry about them. They'll be discreet once the door is closed."

"Of- of course," Ed answered and stepped aside to wave Os in. He slid the door shut and immediately reached over to help his guest with his coat. Oswald jerked away from him, startled, and Ed pulled his hands back for a couple seconds. They held still, staring at each other for a few moments before Ed attempted a smile and reached out again in silent offer.

Oswald took another second to relax before allowing the help and offering his own tentative smile.

"I hope you don't mind lamb," Ed broke the silence, hanging the coat and then shuffling quickly to pull Oswald's chair out for him. "I've paired it with a bordeaux. A Chateau Saint-Pierre. I hope that's okay."

"It sounds lovely," Oswald said as he made himself comfortable. "And it smells delicious. Thank you."

Edward grinned, not hiding his pride as he sat down opposite, "Thank you. For coming. And for the flowers today."

"They arrived fine? No issues?"

"No. None." 

"And the card?"

Ed's head snapped up and he frowned. Kristen had said there wasn't any card. That... She wouldn't lie about that. So why... 

Oswald was looking at him, a piece of lamb on his fork, eyebrows raised, "Was there something wrong with the card, Ed?"

Ed blinked and shook his head, putting on a smile, "No. Nothing." Except that it wasn't there. "It was..." He was very tempted to say 'lovely' and leave it at that, but it was bugging him now. He huffed and set his silverware down. "Actually, there is. Or rather... there wasn't a card. Mrs. Kringle said there wasn't one with it and that she signed for it. So if there was a card, it was taken before she got to them. Or she lied. And I can see no reason for her to lie to me."

A chuckle broke through his thoughts and he had to refocus as he looked to Oswald and found his date laughing at him.

Another frown before he realized: "You didn't send a card."

Oswald shook his head, "No."

"Then why-" Another realization and one that stirred anger in him. "You were testing me."

Oswald tilted his head to the side and shrugged, "Guilty." He paused before continuing, dismissive, "Oh don't be so upset. I needed to see if you'd lie to me. And you didn't. So we're good. And this meal is delicious. Why'd you go into forensics when you could have been a chef? I know several chefs that do much worse and have a much better paycheck than you do."

The compliment did little to placate Ed, and he sat there fuming for a several minutes as Oswald ate happily. Then he asked, not even trying to hide his anger, "Are you going to test me every time we meet? Or are we done with that?"

"Well, we still need to test your memory," Os answered, not bothered in the least by Ed's clear ire. "But tests of honesty I think are done. This one was more spur of the moment."

Ed didn't didn't feel mollified, but he supposed it mattered little in the long run. It was only a greeting card. He took a deep breath and let it out, taking his fork and starting to pick at his food. The rest of the dinner was silent with Oswald watching him intently the whole time. He felt a bit like an animal in the zoo with the scrutiny. He didn't like it.

When the meal was over and napkins were being put on the plates and Ed started to stand to clean up, Oswald twisted in his seat and looked over at the piano, "Do you play?"

The question caught Ed off guard and he stilled for a second before nodding, "Oh, uh. Yes. Sometimes."

"May I?" 

Ed looked between Oswald and the piano, then back, "Of course. If you'd like. You play?"

"Sometimes," Os threw his own answer back at him, though without any ire. He actually seemed... happy. The man stood and hobbled to the bench while Ed cleared the table. His fingers ran down the keys for a bit, flexing and getting comfortable with the spacing. Then he started playing. A simple tune, really, nothing fancy. But it was nice. 

When Ed was done with the plates, he headed across to join Oswald. He stood off to one side and started to hum along. Then sing.

"House of the Rising Sun," he murmured when their duet finished. "That was lovely."

"I'm not very good at it," Os admitted. And there had been a couple bad notes, but overall it sounded like it was just a matter of getting back into practice. 

Ed shrugged, "I think it was fine. Would you like me to play for you, now?"

Os looked up at him, smiling the most genuine smile Ed had seen from him yet, "Yes. I'd like that."


	6. Perspective.

The night had not gone strictly to plan. After Ed's show of hurt over the impromptu 'test' of honesty, Oswald had found himself feeling guilty for causing the other man such consternation. Especially with such a good meal. He's obviously put effort into it in some attempt to make up for their previous meeting. Though Oswald could hardly figure out why. It wasn't as if it were Ed who had to abandon the date early to deal with idiots that thought they could squeeze a lower tax out of him.

Still, he did end up feeling guilty and instead of continuing where they'd left off on Friday, Os had changed the subject to the piano. It wouldn't do to have his new informant upset with him so early in their working relationship. And Ed's mood lifted quickly after he'd started a poor rendition of House of the Rising Son. He was months out of practice and every missed note grated on his ears. But Ed didn't seem to mind. Just kept the tune going with his surprisingly lovely singing voice.

And then Ed had played for him and they'd switched places, with Oswald singing along. The night somehow over before he knew it. The time lost to a small pleasure he hadn't known he'd missed. It wasn't regrettable in the least, so Oswald mentally excused himself for putting off the business part of their meeting until the next came along. Which, should nothing interfere, would be Saturday afternoon.

In the meantime, he had business to attend to and couldn't let the memory of the previous evening distract him. Too much.

"If I am not given the location of those files in the next minute," Oswald said evenly, his tone slightly bored as he rifled through Leob's cupboards for the peanut butter, "your brains will be splattered against that wall. Your daughter's will follow. And we'll tear your house apart for what we want, regardless. The difference being that in one scenario, you get to live, and in the other, you don't."

"Those files are between me and Falcone and-"

"And Falcone has retired!" He cut in, turning to face the man with a none-to-pleasant smile. "Zsasz?"

Zsasz checked his timer, "38 seconds."

"Better start talking. Zsasz has been itching to add another mark."

Leob raised his hands in protest, "I'm sure we can work something out that doesn't involve-"

"Chunky peanut butter? Really? That's all you have?" Oswald sighed, shook his head, "Fine. At least tell me you have something other than grape jelly to go with it."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"20 seconds'" Zsasz called out, pulling the safety back on the gun so it clicked loudly and dramatically. "Hey Boss, can you make mine with honey instead of jam?"

Leob gaped, breath quickening, and looked between them, insulted and scared for his life. It was apparent that he was only just realized there'd be no negotiating with Penguin.

Oswald scooted along the cabinets to drag the honey out and start putting together Zsasz's sandwich for him.

"10 seconds. 9. 8. 7-"

"Okay!" Leob half-yelled, half-begged and took a haggered breath, "Okay. I'll give you their location."

Oswald grinned at him, as if the whole affair was nothing more than a joke between friends, "You'll give the address and any security information to Butch. Then we'll wait for him to call back and tell me if you lied. And then after that, he and my crew will clear the location out and if you want to use any of it to force someone's hand, you'll have to make the request through me. If you don't want to agree with any part of that, Zsasz will get to shoot you."

"Can't I shoot him anyway?" Zsasz asked, accepting the quickly made sandwich with his free hand, face lighting up like a kid on Christmas.

Oswald sent him an annoyed look. Too pleased with the current results to be truly mad at his favorite executioner. Zsasz returned the look with a shrug and Oswald went back to fixing himself a sandwich. Content to enjoy the simple pleasure of it while they waited for Butch to check the information. It took a good half hour, but eventually Butch called back with a confirmation that all was good and they were pulling the files out immediately.

"I'm so happy you chose not to try and backstab me in this," he said to Leob and gesturing for Zsasz to lower his gun. He did so, but he was very disappointed and looked very much like a kicked puppy that he didn't get to kill the man even after he'd beheaded several of Leob's personal security detail.

Oswald gestured for Leob to relax and take a seat, "We'll stick around until Butch says everything's packed up. Then we'll leave you be. How about we watch a movie? You must have a few. Pick your favorite."

Leob fumed, but still turned around to lead the way to the family room.

All of the Commissioner's blackmail stash, a successful confession of information from Florence, and a thoroughly pleasing not-date. For all that it was Tuesday, the week had been going quite well so far.


	7. Presents.

After the first week, Ed started receiving small gifts at work at the times he'd pre-arranged with Oswald. Ed had personally set up the schedule with a highly thought out 'randomized' pattern that wasn't randomized in the slightest but to anyone but the smartest of people, would certainly look and feel randomized. His gift requests for the days he did get something were always small and easily disposed of without regrets should one of the ruder officers decide to make fun the way Flass had with the first bouquet. More flowers, some 'thinking of you' cards, and the occasional candies. The schedule ensured that during the first three weeks there were no more than three deliveries in the second week and only two the other two. Deliveries for the weeks after that initial establishment were to be once a week things save for two of them near the end of the two and a half month planned relationship. Those weeks would have the gifts ramp up in an 'I'm sorry for hurting you' manner until they finally cut off and then it would all be over. That was decently far in the future, however.

It was the first three weeks that would really cement the idea of Edward being in a relationship in his coworkers minds. Even the more skeptical wouldn't be able to believe he'd play up a ruse like that for that long, no matter how much Flass or his cronies might insinuate otherwise. Ed was sure of it.

Of course, that also meant getting through those first three weeks.

The next gift of flowers, this time accompanied by some fancy candies, arrived exactly a week after the initial 'date'. Right on time. Ed made sure he was in the bullpin looking over some files in the back when the scheduled delivery came. After his name was called out by the delivery man, he scurried over, head hunched a bit as if embarrassed, and signed for the small package. Bells of Ireland again, this time with three daffodils mixed in. Luck and Regard or Esteem, or an offer of Joy and Happiness. Ed doubted Oswald had looked up the various meanings that a daffodil could have, but perhaps that made it all the better.

The second week - not counting the week of initially meeting Os and their first 'date' - was when one of the ground-pounders decided to interfere with a delivery. It was just a card. Very good stock and hand-delivered by a young man in a crisp clean suit. Ed had been speaking with Captain Essen when it arrived, their conversation going long without Ed realizing it. He'd stepped out and checked his watch only to find he was two minutes late to picking it up. And when he'd been spotted by the officer, Ashton Tilling, the man held it up and waved it with a 'yoo hoo, lover boy'.

Ed saw red for a moment and froze, then found himself hurling down the stairs to try and retrieve it. Officer Tilling was shorter than him, but he had a group gathered round to listen to him read the inset that kept Edward from getting close. They mocked him, constantly moving so he couldn't get through their makeshift barrier. Tilling continued to recite whatever message was inside, but Ed was too upset and distracted by the others to hear any of it.

When Tilling decided he was done, he took the card and tore it in half along the spine, then in half again and held the pieces over the nearest trash can. He let them go with an 'Oops!'. And then everyone that had been there suddenly dispersed and Ed was left standing alone in a room full of people who hadn't cared enough to say anything, do anything, to help him. He quietly shuffled to the trash and took out the remains of the card. It had truly been a quality buy. The kind that didn't come with a price tag. Custom maybe. It was hard to tell with it quartered as it now was.

He looked around, trying to memorize the faces of everyone who had been there but had done nothing. When his eyes settled on Gordon and Harvey's desks, and Captain Essen's closed doors just beyond, he was relieved to see the Detectives weren't there. As much as Bullock annoyed him, he did like to think they were on good enough terms that both he and his partner would have said something had they seen it. Gordon certainly would have. And the Captain would have reprimanded the officers in question for wasting time playing around, if nothing else.

Ed continued his search as he made his way slowly toward the back hall and his office when he noticed Kristen staring at him, her face stricken. She'd seen it. She'd seen it and she'd done nothing. The guilt flashed over her face when she realized he was looking right at her. Her lips pressed together and she dropped her head, her arms hugging herself as she avoided eye contact. 

A flash of hurt ran through him. Anger. Resentment. Emotions he pushed away with logic in the next moment as he rationalized that she'd have been unable to do anyhing. It was safer for her to keep back. Any one of those officers could have hurt her if she'd tried to get close and help.

He waited until she looked up again, worry etched across her face. He flashed a smile and gave a shrug. She bit at her bottom lip and returned the smile with a sympathetic one before she spun around and hurried off toward wherever she'd been heading. Even if she hadn't done anything during the encounter, she'd stuck around to try and apologize after. That counted for something.

Ed waited until he was back in his office to put the card back together and read it. Hand-written calligraphy. Satin finish. A deep violet card stock with emerald green ink. And a short note that was so much Oswald in his speech that he could practically hear the words aloud when he read them. The man truly didn't half-ass anything when was keeping his end of a deal. Such a professional. And so considerate, besides. Observant as well. He'd already figured out that Ed's favorite color was green. Ed was certain that even though he'd worked at the GCPD as long as he had, none of his co-workers would even be able to guess that.

*********

The pattern continued as expected until the end of the third week. A gift he hadn't been expecting arrived for him. Oswald had sent it outside the agreed upon times. He'd sent something not on the list. He'd sent him an... an actual gift.

Ed was lucky he'd been passing the entrance when one of the delivery girls who'd been in a couple times already waved him down, a giddy smile on her face. She held out the slip to sign. When he reached for the small box wrapped in exquisite black and gold wrapping paper and tied with a black silk ribbon, she kept it away from him. She usually didn't talk to him beyond asking for a signature, but today seemed to be an exception.

She cleared her throat, "I was asked to only give you this if you could answer a riddle: Smaller than a hand, thinner than a board, power over man, mightier than the sword. What am I?"

"A pen!" Ed answered immediately, unable to help the giddy clap and the small jump he gave as the box was handed over.

The girl snorted and rolled her eyes, but it wasn't making fun of him. She seemed just as genuinely amused as he as she turned around and raised a two finger salute while she walked away.

Ed tore into the paper, stuffing the wrapping in a pocket to expedite the opening of the box. Sitting nestled into a silk bed was a beautiful gold pen covered in intricate filigree with his name engraved on the side. He stared at it for a long moment before hesitantly reaching in to pick it up.

"Wow! Nice pen." Flass swooped in and snatched it from the box, startling Ed. The man let out a low whistle of appreciation. He nodded to himself and tucked it into his coat pocket, then gave Ed a 'friendly' pat on the back, "Gonna borrow it, okay? Thanks."

He walked away before Ed could come to his senses enough to protest or do anything more than gawk in horror and shock as the man walked out of the station. He stood there, processing what had happened, for far too long, before he hung his head and realized he could feel the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. Ed clutched the gift box to his chest and shuffled off to his lab. He didn't bother looking around to see who had witnessed that. It didn't matter. He was already humiliated. Had been for so long. Laughing stock of the GCPD, probably. 

When he made it to the safety of his office, he shut the door softly and locked it. His head fell forward against the glass. A shaky breath finally let out as the first of the tears came. He hadn't cried at work since the first month of being on the job when he'd learned to push the noise away and pretend the bullies just didn't exist. They didn't matter, of course, not in the long run. But their words and actions had hurt until he'd figured out how to tune it out and go on like it never happened. Until today. He'd gotten an actual gift and it'd been taken from before he could even touch it.

Ed turned around and leaned against the door, then let himself slide down to the floor where he could pull his legs to him and quietly let the tears fall. It wasn't like he could stop them. And trying to at that point would be, well, pointless. They were a natural and normal way of the body processing emotions, regardless of what those emotions were. It wasn't a weakness to cry. Just... it would hurt all the more if others saw it and tried to use it against him. And he was already hurt enough.

He settled himself and shut his eyes, tried to relax into it and accept that he would need let his body do this before he could do anything else. Unfortunately, the universe didn't see fit to allow that. His phone went off not even two minutes later and when he glanced at the ID he knew he couldn't let it go to voice mail.

Ed took a deep breath to try and calm his voice so the tears wouldn't be heard as he answered, "Hello Gabe."

"Actually," Oswald's voice purred out from the other end, "It's Os. Your gift should have arrived by now." A pause, then a small giggle as the man was clearly excited by his surprise and wanted immediate gratification for having done it. "Did you like it?"

Ed smiled despite himself. He couldn't help it. Oswald just sounded so pleased. And really, there was no reason he shouldn't. So Ed took another deep breath and nodded to himself, "Yes." He laughed himself, the tears less painful now, "I loved it. Did you come up with the riddle yourself?"

"I did!" So very proud of himself. It was a beautiful sound, that smug pride. "I don't think I'll really get into them the way you do, or ask you many very often, but I couldn't help myself this once. It just seemed... right."

"It was perfect," Ed admitted, realizing as he said it that it was true. The whole delivery had been perfect. The riddle as much a gift as the pen was. He might never get to use it, but that was okay. In this case, it really was the thought put into it that counted. "It was absolutely perfect. Thank you so much, Os. I'm going to cherish it forever."

The rest of the conversation was mostly just Oswald relishing in that praise and going into the details of his thought process when coming up with the riddle. He knew the final bit of the riddle would likely give it away to anyone, but he wasn't very good or interested in riddles most of the time and he didn't want to use one he'd read in a book. Ed didn't care. Os had spent time and effort to come up with a riddle for him just because Ed liked riddles.

He'd put in time and effort and thought and care just because.

Like he was Ed's friend. A real, actual, friend.

 


	8. Pique.

It was still a business deal. He was doing his part. Sending the gifts as he should. And a few more besides. For the fun of it. He couldn't have quantified what made it fun to spend money on gifts Edward wasn't aware of, but it was. The surprise and joy in Ed's voice when he called to thank him after each one was certainly a plus. Very rewarding, in it's way.

He was getting tired of not being able to  _see_ Ed's reaction to them, though. All the effort he put in and he wasn't allowed to see Ed's face light up when the deliveries arrived and he tore open the paper to get at the treasure beyond. Maybe he didn't tear it open. Maybe he was more meticulous with it. Oswald didn't know. That had to be rectified. 

So it was that he'd found an excuse to walk into the GCPD on the same day as the delivery of his best gift yet. Gordon had tried to come by headquarters while Oswald was out and ended up calling him to ask for a meeting. Well, why not come to Gordon?

Oswald wasn't noticed at first, which was fine. The less attention he drew to himself, the better. He didn't want Ed to realize he was there just yet. But eyes did start to follow him as he walked with purpose towards the raised level that Gordon's desk sat on. He commanded attention just by moving. By the time he got up there, with Jim pinching his nose and looking annoyed and Bullock putting his feet down to sit properly, the normally cacophonous room had gone quiet.

Bullock was the one that stood and yelled at the gawkers, "There something worth watching up here? No? Then get back to work!"

Os waited until the room returned to it's former commotion, though decidedly subdued as several people tried to make busy so they could figure out why the Penguin was there. He hobbled with dignity to the side of Gordon's desk and flashed a friendly smile, "You called?"

"I wanted a meeting at your place," Gordon hissed, standing up and leaning in so his voice wouldn't carry. "Why'd you come here?"

Os shrugged and played the innocent card, "I assumed it was urgent. And I always have time for my friends." He paused to let that percolate before he pulled out the witness chair that sat to one side and took it, "What can I do for you?"

Gordon fumed. He turned to look away, hands on hips, not at all happy. Which made Os very happy. With all the give he'd done for no take on Jim's behalf, his 'friend' deserved to squirm a bit. 

Bullock ended up talking for him, leaning across his desk, "We got this case and we need info. The kind you might be able to provide."

"I'd be happy to help. Tell me what it involves and I'll see what I can do. For a price, of course."

"We aren't making deals with him," Gordon snapped in a low tone, leaning on his hands as he glared at his partner.

Harvey tossed his hands out and shrugged, "Oh, come on. You're the one that wants to chase this and he's the best bet we have for getting anywhere. And... hold that thought. Hey! You! Yeah, you! I can sign for that!" The man had been turning side to side idly in his chair when his eyes caught sight of someone. He hurried to get out of his chair and down the steps.

Os blinked in surprise. He wasn't used to seeing Bullock move so fast. When he leaned his head a bit more to the side he could see the delivery man with his gift for Edward talking to the detective. Checking his watch confirmed that it was a little earlier than he'd asked for, but only by three minutes. Not terrible. Better to be early than late, after all.

Bullock came back up to the desk with the handsomely wrapped package, grinning like a fool, "Man look at the size of this one. Ed's sugar daddy got him something really expensive this time. I'm betting a coat or a sweater."

"I'm... I'm sorry?" Oswald couldn't help the small, confused, outburst. "Sugar daddy?"

"Yeah, one of our forensics guys," Harvey answered without looking at him, his attention focused on the box as he lifted it and gave it a shake, then carefully inspected the dimensions. "His boyfriend sends him stuff all the time. Treats him like a made man. Got this really nice watch last week. Didn't manage to save it, but it was nice."

Oswald titled his head, attempting to look idly curious, "You didn't save it...?"

Bullock looked up as he put the gift box on Jim's desk, "Some of the guys have it out for Ed. Not sure why. But when Jim realized they were signing for his deliveries and destroying or stealing them, he decided to play hero and start intercepting them and taking them to Ed himself."

"But you were the one who..."

"Yeah," Harvey laughed, cutting Oswald off. He got a bit of a glare for it, but didn't see it as he settled back into his seat, "He roped me into helping."

Oswald turned to look at Gordon, who was still glaring at his partner, fingers tapping on the top of the box. Os smiled, "Yes, he is good at that. Will you be taking that to the person in question? Jim?"

Jim's glare turned on him, but Bullock spoke up again, standing up and coming around the desks to sit on Gordon's in the space between his partner and Oswald, "Go ahead and take it. I'll talk to Penguin."

"Harvey-"

"Nah uh. Ed likes you better than me. And you need to get it there before Flass sees it. He's on to us, you know."

Gordon sighed and rubbed his head, then stood up, "Fine. But you wait until I'm back."

"Of course," Bullock threw his hands out again, giving a friendly shrug, "We're partners. Go on."

Jim tossed them both looks that said they needed to stay quiet and not talk to each other until he returned. A moment passed, then another, then he finally moved, rushing at a fast walk to not draw attention to himself. 

Bullock's eyes followed him for the minute it took to get across the room and through the door to the Medical Department. As soon as Gordon's back disappeared, he turned to Oswald and got down to business, "Jim's not going to ask for your help while you're here. But we need help finding evidence against a narcotics detective. Arnold Flass. Jim's got it into his head that the guy killed a witness in one of the interrogation rooms. Even if it wasn't him, though, someone had in-house help and he's not going to let this go until he finds out who. I can give you the name of the guard on duty at the time. But the log book's missing a page. It's the only real lead we got except for the murder weapon leaving the same wound patterns as another vic we found the same morning down at a dry cleaners. Drug dealer. Flass is in narcotics, so Jim thinks he was taking out a possible mole. You think you can help?"

"You mentioned Flass before," Oswald said slowly, "That Jim needed to get that package to this... 'Ed' fellow before Flass saw it...?"

"Yeah," Harvey shrugged. "Him and his crew are the one's messing with Ed. Not related. Other than him being an asshole."

Oswald stood up and leaned on the desk, "Is he in the room? If you could point him out, it'll help me confirm any information I might find if I can identify him personally."

Bullock didn't like the sound of it, but the logic followed, so he sighed and stood himself, moving to lean with his back on the rail and do his best to block Penguin from being easily seen while he muttered, "Near the door. Big guy in the expensive but cheap looking suit. Gold pen in his pocket."

Oswald nodded and started to make his way across the floor to the stairs behind Bullock's desk, "I'll be in touch, detective. Have a good day." He didn't bother looking back to see what Harvey would do. He didn't expect Jim back for a few minutes yet. And the path to Mr. Flass was wide open.

He walked toward the entrance and stopped right in front of the taller man. Flass obviously recognized him by the sudden look of uncertainty he gave as he tried to figure out if he should be friendly or not. Oswald's dark look morphed instantly into a big bright smile. 

"That's a lovely pen," he said, voice as equally cheerful as his expression. He reached out and plucked it from the man's pocket, "I'm going to borrow it."

Flass looked like he wanted to protest, but didn't as Oswald turned and walked out of the precinct. 

*********

That very same evening found Oswald and Butch in the meeting hall with a box and a half of files. Every last one of them pertained to one Arnold Flass and his many, many,  _many_ illicit doings. Gabe was out tracking down the guard Bullock had told him about. But Oswald figured that if he had Leob's files, he might as well put them to good use.

Most of the files were spread out in front of the two with three piles slowly being added to. One for 'keep to use against someone other than Flass', one for 'keep for leverage when Flass is in Blackgate' and one for 'safe to give the GCPD because there's no incriminating details about anyone else we care about'. Sorting them as such took a lot of time with the sheer number of files there were and the blackmail contained therein. Leob had used Flass as a personal hitman on many occasions, as well as destroying or disappearing evidence, on top of all the smaller illegals Flass did on his own and would have otherwise been caught for. If not for Leob's protection, that is.

"Oh wow," Butch muttered, lifting a file up to better read it, "This guy's the one that cleared out Maroni's group in the Narrows four years ago. You remember that? That really big hit, took out like, half his dealers and three of his houses? The one no one could figure out who had planned it or pulled it off? Apparently Leob was sending Maroni a message."

"That's a good one," Oswald agreed, skimming a file. "Unfortunately it mentions Leob directly, so we can't use it now."

Butch uncapped his marker and closed the folder. He wrote 'Commissioner Leob' just under Flass' name and tossed it in pile number one. Then grabbed another, "So uh, not that I disagree with you on this, Boss, but... why all the extra effort on this? Did Gordon promise you something good?"

Os shook his head, sighing when he saw a name pop up that he wanted to keep off the GCPD radar for the time being. The file had otherwise been very good and would have been perfect for using against Flass. But he wanted the Pike Brothers safe. They weren't being cooperative just yet. However, they were the best arsonists in the city and he was certain he'd eventually be able to win them over.

"No, Jim has promised me nothing," he said in an even tone, completely unperturbed. "Nor has his partner, Bullock. Who was the one that actually asked for help."

"So... what? We're doing this for free? Out of the niceness of our hearts?" 

Oswald completely understood Butch's questioning. Oswald didn't do favors for free. But in this case, well, it was less a favor and more of a... gift. He smiled and shook his head again, "No. Certainly not. Mr. Arnold Flass has merely earned my ire and this is simply a perfect opportunity to make sure he does not do so ever again. This is personal."

Butch sucked his lips in, thoughtful, let them open with a soft 'pop'. Tapped the end of the marker on the table. Leaned his chin on his hand. Tried to stay quiet...

"What'd he do?"

Oswald set his new file down and turned to face his second, arms crossing on the table as he smiled wickedly, "He stole two of the gifts I sent Edward. And destroyed several of the cards and flowers, if Bullock's insinuations are to be believed. Revealed to me under the impression I had no real interest in the matter, of course. So now, we're going to ruin Mr. Flass' life."

Os had half expected Butch to shake his head and shrug, act like his motivations were stupid, but that he'd go along with it. Instead, he scrunched his brow and nodded, pulling another file out to go through, "Man did this to himself. After we're done... do you want me to put word on the street not to mess with your man?"

"No. I don't want more attention drawn to him. The less people know about my... man... the better."

Butch nodded again and went back to work.

They fell into silence once more. 

Around two hours later, as they neared the end of the files, Oswald leaned back in his chair and took a moment to relax. He frowned in thought before turning to Butch once more, "Would you say I'm Ed's 'sugar daddy'?"

Had his second been drinking something, he would have spit it across the table, so forceful was the loud, sputtering rush of air that exploded from him, " _What_?"

"Sugar daddy. Bullock called Ed's boyfriend his 'sugar daddy'. Would you say that's an accurate description of our relationship as it currently stands?"

Butch cleared his throat. Did it again. Eyes wide in his head as he considered it. He did have to answer Oswald eventually. His 'training' didn't allow otherwise. So this was something he was forced to deal with even though he clearly preferred not to. Eventually he shook his head, but answered in the positive, "I mean, you buy him stuff all the time and he only gives you an occasional home cooked meal or flowers or a card in return. You aren't really taking care of him the way sugar daddy's usually do, with the whole paying for rent or buying groceries, or you know, just buying him stuff he asked for on a shopping trip, or sending him money just because. But... yeah, you're, uh, you're pretty close to being one."

"Huh." It was contemplative noise. He'd never thought of himself as the sort to date in the first place and, really, had never dated anyone before. He didn't know the standard protocols. What was seen as usual. He figured with the set up Ed had come up with, sending gifts - especially ones that Ed certainly couldn't afford himself - was normal. But that, apparently, made him a 'sugar daddy' in the unknowing eyes of those around Edward. 

"Do you think I'm doing it wrong?"

Butch looked over, confused, "Are you trying to be his sugar daddy?"

"No. No... I meant... dating. Am I doing it wrong? This is... I don't have much experience with it. Not with doing it while I have the resources I currently have, I mean." Because Butch didn't need to know that Ed was the first person he'd ever dated. "I always thought that when you had the means to shower your partner in gifts and good fortune, you should. Was that an inaccurate assumption?"

"Nah, you're fine," Butch waved the concern away. He clearly didn't like talking relationships with other people, but he knew Oswald well enough to know his boss wasn't going to let it go without getting some real heart-to-heart answers. "You got money to burn and he's got a cop's salary. If he had the money to do what you're doing, he'd probably do the same. Guy's got that way about him, you know? Gabe's always talking about how he calls to make sure you're okay and that you got his card or flowers or the lunches he sends over sometimes. He's taking care of you as best he can with what he's got. Same as you're doing."

Oswald sighed again and resettled into his chair, swirling the wine in his glass for a bit, before bringing up another subject, "You realize this is just a business arrangement between the two of us?"

"Call it whatever you want, boss. I'll do the same."

Os's eyes slid over to Butch, who was focused on the paperwork once more. Butch didn't believe it was just a business arrangement. Gabe certainly didn't. Most of the men, as well.

Maybe he was right. Maybe Os was getting in too deep. But it made him feel so good. All of it. Just the thought of Ed happy brought a smile to his face. So what if he was getting attached for real? Was it such a bad thing to have that happiness in his life? The only other happiness he had that came close was his mother. 

Maybe... just maybe... he wanted more.


	9. Personal.

Ed was in the middle of a heavy chemical experiment to test a theory on what caused an odd corrosive pattern on the shoes of a body found the previous day when a knock at the locked door caused him to freeze. Freezing was his trained response when conducting tests with hazardous chemicals. Better to stop entirely than spill something into the wrong container. 

"Ed?" Gordon's voice filtered in. "You got a minute?"

"Give me two shakes, detective, and I'll be with you in a jiffy," he called back, letting out the breath he'd been holding before carefully placing the vial in his hand back in its original holder. He needed no distractions when he combined it with the other liquid so he didn't accidentally blow his face off by pouring too fast.

Once he was certain of everything being safe for the moment, he stepped away from the table and went to the door. He unlocked without bothering to strip his gloves off or lift his goggles. But he did smile at Jim in greeting, blocking the entrance so the man couldn't come inside and bother anything, "What can I do for you?"

Jim lifted a large, elegantly wrapped box into view, "Delivery for you."

Ed's face lit up and let out a soft gasp of excitement as he clapped his hands and then made a 'gimme gimme' motion with his fingers. Jim smirked and handed it over, only for Ed to pull his hands back at the last second.

"Could you open it for me?" He asked, cringing a little as he wiggled his fingers again, "I've been handling corrosive agents and I'm not sure what residue is on these right now. I didn't wash them before getting the door."

Jim pressed his lips together and glanced back the way he came before allowing a tight-lipped smile, "Yeah. Sure. Is it safe to come in?"

Ed hesitated, turning to glance back at his lab, then stepped to the side and pointed to the right, "The far table there. The one with the reports."

Jim squeezed past him and made his way over, careful not to knock into anything. He seemed stressed. Maybe there was a new case added to his already heavy load? Whatever it was, he didn't say and Ed didn't ask as he followed after, eyes on his new prize. 

The packaging came off neater than Ed usually attempted. Jim was being considerate and Ed needed to be patient even though he wanted so terribly to rip the box apart already. When the lid finally came off and the tissue paper was pushed aside, a beautiful hunter green sweater was revealed. It had a subtle embroidered pattern done in a barely visible darker shade of green thread that forced a very textured visual rather than a patterned one. It was, quite simply, stunning.

"There you go," Jim said, taking a step back and gesturing at it before sticking his hands in his pockets. "Bullock's gonna be happy."

"Oh? Why?" Ed's attention was only half on the question as he resisted the urge to pull all his equipment off and put the sweater on immediately. It wouldn't be safe.

"When he signed for it, he guessed it was a sweater or a jacket."

Ed did look up at that, surprise in his tone as his brows scrunched, "He signed for it? But you're the one who brought it...?"

Jim waved a hand, then rubbed his chin, "Yeah. He wanted to get me away from the desk for a bit. Which means I should get back. Before he does something stupid."

"Okie dokie," Ed offered a small wave as Gordon retreated. A moment later, he remembered his experiment and hurried back to finish it as soon as possible. He wanted it done so he could wear his new sweater.

  *********

It took another hour to check all the variables, but when he was done, he had the report ready to deliver to Detective Alvarez's desk. His new sweater fit perfectly and he wore it proudly under his lab coat as he dropped off the report and headed up the stairs to where detective's Bullock and Gordon sat at their desks rummaging through an evidence box.

Ed usually preferred to swing around to Jim's desk when he needed either of the two, but stopped next to Bullock's this time.

"Detective," he said in greeting, hands going to the bottom of his sweater to tug it a bit straighter. "What can be coerced, forced, or given as a lie, but means the most when given truthfully?" Not one of his best, but he was hoping it would be easy to figure out given the context.

Bullock squinted up at him, eyes taking in the sweater. He didn't try to answer. He never did. But he smirked, "Knew it."

"The answer is 'thanks'. I want to thank you for signing for the delivery earlier. Detective Gordon said you did and I greatly appreciate it. I doubt I'd have even known about it if not for your kindness."

Bullock groaned and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah... I'm a saint or something. You know, Jim refused to tell me if I guessed right? Bastard." The last was said with the gruff affection Ed had come to recognize the two men shared. The sort of emotional ribbing Ed wouldn't know the first thing about participating in. He had trouble understanding how insulting a friend could be seen as a positive by them. Insults were degrading and cruel in his experience.

"You could have taken it to him if you really wanted to know," Jim shot back, not bothering to look up from the box.

"I was talking to-"

"And I told you to wait until I got back," Jim interrupted, snapping at his friend. Clearly he was still upset about this incident, whatever and whoever it involved.

Bullock rolled his eyes again and gave a dismissive wave and a soft 'bah' as he turned back to Ed, smirking, "I'd ask for the dirty deets on what you had to do to get something like that, but i'm not into guys, so..." He shrugged. "But good on you for getting some."

Ed coughed, choking a bit, and pressed a hand to his stomach as he pulled himself straighter, "I... I beg your pardon?"

Bullock's brows shot up and he leaned in, looking scandalized and shocked, "Wait a second. Wait a goddamn second." He blinked a couple times and looked Ed over before standing up with his hands on his hips. "You mean to tell me, you've been seeing him all this time... He's been sending you gifts that any other man here would be hard pressed not to call a bribe... And you ain't even gotten laid yet?"

Ed's mouth flapped open a bit like a fish out of water for a moment before he could get a hold of himself, "My... personal life... And the details thereof... are none of your business. Nor should they be of concern."

"You really haven't gotten laid yet," Bullock grinned like this was the best thing he'd heard all week. "Hoooo boy... How'd you do it?

"Are you implying that you don't think I could have someome care for me this much without... without doing that?"

"I'm implying I don't think _most_ people could have someone throw that much money at them, for this long, without them putting out," Harvey corrected and snapped his fingers at the chair next to him. "Sit. Talk. How'd you get this guy wrapped around your finger?"

Ed sat down hesitantly, suddenly feeling like maybe he'd planned this whole thing out wrong. Were there really so few who would date someone for more than month without sex being involved? He found that hard to believe. Unfortunately it wasn't so much about what _he_ believed, as it was about what those around him believed. He couldn't maintain the illusion of being in a relationship if no one thought the standards being put forth were realistic.

"He's just..." Ed started slowly, keeping his eyes down and letting his hands work over the bottom of his sweater. The texture and the stimulation from touching it soothing, "...old fashioned. He believes in marriage first."

Any interest Bullock had went out the window with a groan, "Boring."

"I don't think it's boring. I think it's sweet."

"Of course you do."

Jim aggressively cleared his throat, glaring at Bullock, "Leave off, Harv."

Harvey threw his hands out, "I'm just saying!"

"Perhaps you should stop 'just saying', then," Ed said softly, but with as much conviction as he could muster. He didn't talk back to anyone... at all, really. It was a little daunting.

"Aw, come on. I'm just ribbing you," Harvey muttered, pulling one of the evidence files over to flip through it. Gordon's stare didn't let up and he slapped the file down and turned to Ed, "Fine. I'm sorry for making fun. I think it's great you have a boyfriend or whatever he is."

"Thank you," Ed murmured, straightening in his seat. He knew Bullock only did that because of Gordon. But it was still nice to hear regardless. 

He thought about getting up, but hesitated as another thought came to mind. He clasp his hands together and set them on the desk, leaning on his elbows as he tried to put on his friendliest smile, "Actually, if you have a moment..."

Bullock eyed him like this was a trap.

Ed bit at his bottom lip for all but a second, then continued, "I was wondering if you, either of you, might have some ideas on gifts I could give in return? Os is... he's very generous with his money as you've seen. And I know I can't afford anything that he couldn't. So I'm not sure a gift based on monetary value would be appropriate... But I'm having difficulty coming up with ideas on gifts that he might appreciate that I haven't already given him."

Bullock stared at him. He glanced over at Jim. Stared at his partner. Jim shrugged. Bullock returned his stare to Ed. Then he leaned his chin on his fist and nodded, "Okay. I'll bite. What've you gotten him so far?"

"Mostly a return on the flowers and cards. But I've also made a few home-cooked lunches for him that his personal assistant picks up from my home at the appropriate times. Other than cooking him dinner for a few of our dates, that's the extent of it. I admit, I'm rather new to this. But I'd really like to get him something nice. That isn't just, the same old-same old I've been doing. Or cliched like cologne."

Harvey frowned, still sitting with his chin on his fist, looking like he was putting some actual thought into it, "I mean... If it were me, I'd be happy with the meals. The flowers and stuff ain't my scene. A nice tie or something I could wear to work would be cool. I know, 'cliched', but hell, sometimes cliches work."

"Sometimes a gift can be transient," Gordon spoke up, joining the conversation with a sigh and a shrug as the two looked over at him. "What I mean is, sometimes a date can be the 'gift'. You remember the snake lady murder? The Valeska perp? We were only there because Lee wanted to go to the circus. She loves our usual dates, but she wanted to go somewhere special. And even though it was only a night, it was still a gift of sorts because we spent time together. We had fun. Other than the murder part."

Ed nodded along and stood up, still unsure, but feeling a little more confident, "Thank you. Both. You've given me something to think about."

He didn't even mind the muttered 'we all know how much you love thinking' that came from Harvey as he walked away. He had a 'gift' to plan. One that might not be as expensive as the ones he'd gotten from Oswald, but was going to be memorable. Really show him how much he appreciated his friendship and help in this endeavor.


	10. Potential.

Oswald hobbled into the precinct, Butch and Gabe behind him. A paper bag in Gabe's hand and a small accordion folder under Butch's arm. Their presence drew the attention of the uniforms and the detectives and this time Os didn't particularly care. It was better, actually. That they all realize exactly who was the architect of Flass'  coming downfall. They may not realize it immediately, but most of them were smart enough to connect the dots after the fact.

Jim stood and started to make his way toward them as Os ascended the stairs, but Gabe hurried and took point, cutting the man off from getting to him. He smiled at Gordon as he'd been instructed to, and pushed the paper bag into the detective's chest. This prevented Gordon from intercepting Oswald as he made his way into the Captain's office. Butch shut the door behind them and pulled the blinds so there would be no prying eyes.

Captain Essen stood slowly, a 'what's the meaning of this' dying on her lips as she realized the Penguin was clearly making more than a social call.

"Captain," Oswald greeted with a friendly smile, holding out a hand, "It's so good to finally meet you."

She looked down at his hand, cautious, before taking it, "Mr. Cobblepot."

"Oh, good, you remember my name. That will make this easier." He pulled his hand and waved Butch forward. The accordion file got placed in the center of Essen's desk. Then Butch stepped back and took up a guard position again. Blocking the door with his bulk so it couldn't be pushed open in case anyone tried.

Oswald gestured at the folder, "I'm sure you're curious as to what I came here to speak about. Wonder no longer. This is me, doing a favor, for you."

Essen's back was straight as she eyed the 'favor' set before her. But she didn't reach out for it. "And what favor would that be, Mr. Cobblepot?"

"Ensuring that Due Process does not allow Mr. Arnold Flass to go free." Oswald tilted his head to one side, "At the moment, one of my associates is handing Detective Gordon a signed confession and recording of said confession, that the guard on duty had his family threatened by Mr. Flass if he didn't cover for him by removing the log page and also hiding the murder weapon for him. Which is also in the bag."

Essen's eyes widened and she looked out the windows of her office, most of her view blocked by the blinds, but she could still see the lines of Gordon hovering. A large shape sitting on his desk to one side. Her gaze snapped back to Oswald and she gulped, gesturing at the folder on her desk, "And this?"

"Insurance. In case someone finds a way to keep Flass from serving the time he deserves. Within it you'll find four evidence folders with pages that clearly state Mr. Flass as the perpetrator of several very, very serious crimes. All the pages therein, you will find, are ones that have been removed or misplaced from the official records. Or had the official records redacted. None of them are fakes, I assure you."

The captain slid into her seat, pale and disbelieving, but ready to open the folder and glance through the files. She let out a long, slow breath as she did so, "How did you come to be in possession of these, Mr. Cobblepot?"

Oswald grinned, "Commissioner Leob has a lot of older records he's formally removed from the files." Then he paused, gave a soft laugh, and shook his head, "I'm sorry. Had. Commissioner Leob  _had_ a lot of older records."

He met her eyes and saw fear in them. Good.

"I have them now."

*********

Gordon was waiting for him when he left the office and he smiled pleasantly at the man, "Hello, old friend. I do hope you put my efforts to good use."

"How did you get this?" Gordon growled at him, getting in his face. "Who did you hurt?"

"Hurt?" Oswald gasped and set a hand to his chest as though wounded, "I assure you I hurt no one. Gabriel had a pleasant chat with the man in question, explained the situation to him, and he was more than happy to come forward." It also helped that they had Leob's files on the man and all it took was flashing one for him to crumble and say whatever they wanted him to. That it was mostly the truth simply worked in Jim's favor.

Jim glared, eyes moving away and to the door behind Oswald as Captain Essen appeared. Os took the opportunity to start back across the platform and down the steps. His men fell into place behind him while Essen moved past Gordon and to the railing. Oswald stopped at the bottom to watch her.

She clenched it with her hands and smiled grimly, speaking loudly into the silence of the room, "Detective Gordon. Please do me the... honor... of arresting Arnold Flass for the murder of Leon Winkler."

Flass stood in the middle of the bullpin, eyes wide in shock and mouth agape. Gordon, despite his obvious misgivings about Penguin, hurried down the steps on the other side of the platform, reciting the Miranda rights as he went. The men around Flass stood up, crossing their arms, turning on their friend with the Captain's scrutiny so firmly on them. Their presence ensuring Flass wouldn't be able to run if even tried to. His protests started up immediately. Threats came next. Leob's name was thrown out there, but Essen cut him off when he tried that.

"No," she said, quite firm and quite loud. She leaned forward, her smile now smug and more than a little wicked, "The Commissioner won't do anything about this when he hears about it. But good luck trying."

Flass's eyes scanned the room and fell on Penguin just as he was getting shoved into a holding cell. Penguin waved before moving off toward the back of the Precinct. The attention of the place was no longer on him. Butch and Gabe peeled away, heading to the car while Os used the current distraction to slip into the hallway of the medical wing.

He found the Forensics lab easily enough and knocked. There was not an immediate answer, so he pushed the door open to find the room sadly empty. He'd hoped to surprise Ed with a clandestine visit. Aw well...

Os shuffled inside and found a pad of sticky notes. He wrote a quick message on the top and then tore it off and stuck it where he assumed it would be easily seen. The gold pen he'd bought Ed and had to steal back from Flass was set on the table just under the note. Another quick look around before he sighed and left. He couldn't stay long, much as he'd like to. If someone found him wandering around he'd have trouble talking his way out of it. 'I was looking for the bathroom' didn't really work in a police precinct.

*********

Gabe answered his phone about a half hour after they'd left and were stuck in bad traffic on the way back to headquarters. The man made some soft noises that Oswald couldn't quite make out, but didn't really think about until after Gabe hung up and loudly announced that they were going to take a detour to 'avoid traffic'.

Os looked over at Butch, confusion on his face. Butch met it with a shrug of his own. So Os leaned forward and asked loudly, "How are we going to avoid the traffic we're already in?"

"Got a friend watching the roads. Told me an alternate route. Just gotta turn off at the next light. We'll be good," Gabe answered like it was par for the course for him to have someone 'watching the roads'. Which it wasn't. Well... Oswald didn't think it was. Granted, he didn't usually think much about how Gabe drove outside of him being trusted enough to do the driving on a regular basis. 

"Fine," Oswald sighed and got comfortable again. He had no other official appointments for the day. He could deal with a detour if it meant getting back home faster.

Another twenty minutes and he was getting the feeling that they weren't heading home. He started paying more attention to the streets and realized they were going the wrong direction. He frowned, eyeing the back of Gabe's head while he leaned in to whisper as such to Butch. Butch glanced out the windows and confirmed that Oswald wasn't mistaken. They were definitely going the wrong direction. Gabe was on the phone again, laughing it up, occasionally turning and giving a heads-up to whoever was on the other line that they'd made it to a certain street.

"Be ready to shoot whoever it is that we're being taken to," Oswald murmured to Butch and discreetly checked his own pistol while Butch just nodded and did the same.

Betrayal was not new to Os. Coming from Gabe, however... that hurt. Of all the people to be bought, it was the one man that had been with him from the very start of his rise to King. The one man he trusted above all save Butch to get the dirty work done for him. And Butch was only trusted more because he literally couldn't disobey.

These thoughts, the pain, percolated in his mind until they were suddenly drowned with outright confusion.

"Gabe!" He called out, mouth agape at the sign they had just passed. "What are we doing at the zoo?"

Gabe didn't turn around, but his face was bright and smiling in the rear view as he gave a thumbs up, "Got a surprise for you boss! You'll like it!"

"I assure you I do _not_ like it. I have no reason to be here. If this is some sort of-" Os cut off as the car pulled up to the curb in front of the Zoo's main entrance. Standing there, smiling and waving, was Edward. He was dressed casually in a short sleeve button up and slacks, a bag over one shoulder and a pair of tickets sticking out of his breast pocket.

When the car pulled to a stop, he stepped forward to open the door, "Hello, Oswald. I hope you'll forgive Gabriel's deception this afternoon. I asked him to help me surprise you." He put both hands out, fingers spread wide: "Surprise!"

Butch nudged Os's side and murmured, "You want me to shoot him?"

"No!" he rounded on Butch, glaring, before glaring at Gabe, who was smiling ear to ear from the front seat. Finally, his glare landed on Ed, whose expression was slowly falling and becoming quite unbearable to look at with how wounded it was.

He sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile, which immediately brought one back to Ed's face, "My apologies for the... I'm not used to surprises being good ones. It would be best, in the future, to make sure Gabe tells me they're from you."

"Oh! Of course! I'm sorry. I forgot to take that into account," Edward hurried to apologize as he held his hand out to help Oswald from the vehicle. Because it was Ed, Os allowed it. "If it's alright, I thought we could spend the whole afternoon here? Gabriel said you didn't have any appointments past one.''

Os hesitated, glancing back at the car and getting another enthusiastic thumbs up from Gabe. Butch was doing his best not to get further involved and had scooted to the other side of the seat so he couldn't be easily looked at for opinions. When Os turned back to Ed, he did so with a tight, uncertain smile, "I suppose that wouldn't be a terrible idea. I'm hardly dressed for it, though. A little overdressed, perhaps. And it's very public..."

"That's okay! I brought a vest and jacket in your size," Ed answered, opening his bag and pulling out a package neatly wrapped in brown paper. He held it out, "I made sure they were to your tastes. Well, what I know of your tastes. They're a little dressed down by necessity, but you'll draw far less attention than in your suit. And it won't matter if they get ruined. They're easily replaced."

Oswald hesitated again, but then reached out for the package and bent down to get back into the car. He pulled the door shut while Edward politely turned his back. Gabe made sure all the windows were up and his attention was diverted. Butch's eyes were firmly somewhere outside the vehicle. In a couple minutes Oswald had changed out of his suit coat and vest, and the accessories that went with them, and was wearing a much simpler and more every-man vest in a dark wine color as well as a charcoal sports jacket with brown leather patches at the elbows. They went well enough with the shirt he already had on. And didn't look terrible with his pants. As a last second measure, Oswald carefully pushed all of his hair out of his face and to the side, combing it flat all the way around.

When he re-emerged, he didn't look much like his usual self, though he did take the umbrella he occasionally used as a cane with him. He might need it if they were going to spend the whole afternoon wandering the zoo. 

Ed offered his arm and he took it. The inconveniences aside, his spirits went up with that gesture alone.


	11. Complications.

When he returned to the office the next day, Ed was met with the surprising sight of Arnold Flass, GCPD's favorite narcotics detective, sitting in the center holding cell. From his disheveled appearance, he had likely been there all night. The odd turn of events born witness by that very image left Ed in a state of not quite shock while he mentally processed what he was seeing and pieced together the puzzle before him.

He blinked a couple times, standing just at the top of the short flight of stairs into the bullpen, and realized that whatever evidence Detective Gordon had been searching for must have been found. What it was, there wasn't enough context clues to figure out just yet. But it must have been quite the nail in the coffin for Flass if he'd been sitting there all night. Because surely he'd have had one of his friends in higher places bail him out or order his release if the evidence wasn't compelling enough. Though whether it would hold up in court and further inquiry was not something Ed could speculate on just yet. He'd have to discreetly look int-

"Evidence against him's air tight."

Or not.

Harvey interrupted Ed's thoughts with a hard slap to the back of his shoulder that made Ed jump just slightly and flinch. An action he corrected immediately and attempted to play off as shifting his feet to turn and face the Detective. 

"Oh?" he asked, adjusting his glasses. Genuinely interested, merely finding the physical contact to be off-putting.

Harvey didn't notice as he grinned, gloating, and nodded, "Yeah. A confession from an officer... and he's gonna be on suspension until after the trial 'cause even though Flass threatened him and his family, he still destroyed records and lied the first time he was asked about it. And we got the murder weapon, too. It's an open and shut case right now. We can place Flass at the scene of both murders and none of the higher ups want anything to do with him, so they're gonna let him hang."

Harvey gave another pat to Ed's shoulder before letting his hand drop away, "You got nothing to worry about anymore when your guy sends you stuff. Oh, yeah, we're gonna celebrate tonight. Well, I'm gonna drag Jim out to a few bars and get myself drunk. He'll probably play wet blanket but it means I ain't gotta drive home. Anyway, you wanna tag along?"

Ed's mouth dropped open as his eyebrows shot up. It was the first time anyone from work had ever asked him to go for after-work drinks. And it was from  _Harvey Bullock_ of all people.

"Yes!" He laughed, smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'd love to! What time should I be ready?"

"Eh, after work," Harvey shrugged. "Depends on the caseload we get today. I'll come get you, or Jim will, when we're ready to go."

"Okie dokey," Ed's shoulders shrugged upward in a tiny, giddy display of excitement he attempted to keep as small as possible. It was only an after-work bar crawl. Happened all the time. To other people. But it would look weird if he made a big deal out of it. Might even get the invitation rescinded. 

"See you tonight," he said as Harvey walked off. He got a dismissive hand in the air, but that was just Harvey. Right? Right.

Grinning brightly and feeling on top of the world, he hopped down the steps with a merry air and headed towards his office. But alas, such revelry was not to last. It was interrupted almost immediately as Kristen ghosted past him, head down and shoulders hunched. She was clearly trying hard not to draw attention to herself while she headed for the upper level records annex. She passed Flass's holding cell and her head turned toward him briefly. He started to stand. The moment ended before he could get to his feet, Kristen straightening her shoulders and setting her attention forward while picking up her pace. She took the stairs much faster than Ed had ever seen her take them before. Not quite a run, but more than a hurry. 

His own expression fell and he felt a sudden wave of guilt over his excitement at Flass's incarceration. The man might have been a terrible person completely unworthy of Kristen in every way, but she had still been dating him. And now she had 'dated a murderer' on her social record. Publicly. Ed technically had it on his own, as well, what with the deception him and Oswald were pulling, but that wasn't public knowledge. There was no stigma or need to sympathize for what would be seen as a failure in judging character. But for Kristen...

Ed took a deep breath and continued on to his office. He'd have to find a reason to visit her at some point in the day to provide a shoulder to cry on. Now was not the time to ask her out, of course. The wound was too fresh. But perhaps in a week? Maybe two would be better. He'd have to keep an eye on her reactions to try and time it and start setting up the break up with Oswald.

He paused in his thoughts as he shut his door behind him, frowning. His original time table called for that to start in just under a month's time. Pushing it forward might seem too convenient. And, if he was being honest with himself, the thought of doing so was... oddly upsetting. He was enjoying the friendship that had sprung forth from their ruse. He didn't exactly want that to have to end. But it would be difficult to find excuses to spend time with him if they weren't 'dating' anymore. There'd be no reason for Os to make plans with him anymore. Unless, of course, he wanted to.

Ed set his briefcase down and popped it open. The strip of pictures he'd convinced Os to let them take at the photo booth the day before sat tucked away and hidden in the upper pocket. Buried behind a stack of otherwise extremely technical data sheets that would make no sense to anyone but Ed himself. It wasn't exactly encoded, but all the numbers and what he was tracking were labeled with riddles related to them just so Ed could have a little more entertainment with his work.

He pulled the set of four pictures out and sat down on his stool, leaning forward on his elbows as he looked them over. He'd glanced at them the day before. And that evening when he'd decided to stick them in his briefcase. Lots of other people at the precinct had pictures of their significant others and their families laying around their workspaces. Granted, he couldn't exactly make Oswald's identity public, but he liked the idea of finally getting to have that sort of picture sitting in his own. 

Oswald looked so different than his usual self with his hair pushed down and his clothes more run of the mill. He wasn't upset by any of that in the photos, however. He was smiling brightly, laughing even, in one of them. In the third he was turned to the side, facing Ed. Looking up at him, eyes big and bright and his expression unguarded. In the last, he was leaning up against Ed's shoulder as Ed leaned into him. Both laughing, gazes locked on the other.

He would miss that when they started the fake breakup. He expected, just based on the fun they'd had and the evidence of such sitting in his hand, that Os would be open to continuing their acquaintance after they stopped dating. But that could take weeks to get back to. He'd have to 'get some space' as the saying went, post-relationship. Which would mean breaking off contact so he wouldn't risk slipping up and letting it be known they were still in contact. And he wouldn't be able to go out and do things with Os, either, since his social calendar would have to be open.

Ed sighed, smiling sadly at the photos. He'd have to pay careful attention to Kristen's emotional state. Maybe talk to Lee about her. She wasn't likely to just jump into the next relationship, so maybe... maybe he had more time than he was estimating. More than just a couple weeks before Kristen was in the right mindset to start dating again. He should be prepared to shut things down with Os if he needed to, but he didn't have to actually start doing it any time soon.

He tucked the picture strip back into the pocket and pulled the case files he'd snuck home out to set on his desk as though they'd never left. Which was where he found the gold pen and the post-it note stuck to the wall just above it.

He nearly dropped the files when he saw them. Nearly. It was a very close thing.

But he didn't. Which was good.

He read the note.

Oswald knew about Flass taking his gifts.

"Oh dear."

*****

Ed tried to put the pen and the note behind him, unsure of what it meant that Oswald had found out but had chosen not say anything outside of that one post-it. Clearly he'd been at the Precinct before Gabe drove him to the zoo. A little hovering and evesdropping confirmed that he'd shown up just before Flass's arrest, but if he'd played a role in it, no one could say. It would be useless to speculate further on that. Because even if he had, it had likely been as a favor for Jim that no one knew about. Otherwise Harvey would likely have been moaning about it where he thought no one could overhear. And Harvey was in an excellent mood. That did make Ed wonder what Jim had to do in return, but that, too was something to think about at another time. It wouldn't do him any good at the moment.

And the moment had him hovering just beyond the door to the main records annex. He could hear sounds from within. Something muffled, but persistent. He should be focused on figuring out what it was before he entered. Not letting his mind wander back to the pen, the note, and Oswald choosing not to bring any further attention to the fact that he knew about Flass and the gifts.

Ed just couldn't figure out _why_ Os wouldn't say anything if he'd known. Had he only just found out? That might be likely. If he was there just before Flass was arrested and saw the pen in his pocket... he could have asked someone about it. Though the gossip mill should have made mention of Oswald talking to someone other than Jim if that were the case. As far as anyone he'd been overhearing had said, however, Oswald spoke to Captain Essen and only Captain Essen. He didn't even talk to Gordon. Practically ignored him. Which, obviously, just added to the evidence that he'd done Jim a favor. No other reason to so openly ignore the only detective he'd ever publicly involved himself with.

But all that was beside the point.

What was the point again?

Right. Kristen.

Who was opening the door to the annex, sniffing loudly, a tissue fisted into one hand. She stopped short with a gasp upon seeing him, "Mr. Nygma! Hello. Did you need something before I left?"

Ed gulped and attempted a smile, but it fell away like melting wax and he ended up feeling even more awkward as he cleared his throat and tried to be supportive of her distress, "I just... wanted to see if... you were okay. I found out about Detective Flass this morning when I walked in and-"

"Please don't," she interrupted, drawing herself up and taking a deep breath. She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Don't try and pretend you aren't thrilled at his arrest. Everyone knows how he treated you. Even when I asked him to stop it, he just... He thought it was funny. It wasn't. I know it wasn't and... I knew he wasn't the nicest person, you know? I just didn't think he was the sort to..."

She patted her eyes with the tissue, laughing bitterly, "You don't have to pretend that this isn't absolutely wonderful for you, okay? It is. And you have... every right... to be happy about, But I need some time to myself. Please just... leave me alone right now, okay? If you don't need to be here, I'd like to be left alone."

Ed's eyes didn't leave her, but he shrunk in on himself and nodded, feeling very small and more guilty as he nodded again and answered quietly, "Okay."

She sniffed loudly and finished shutting the door. Then she walked off. 

He waited until she was out of earshot before letting out a frustrated groan and berated himself for approaching so soon. Note to self: more than four hours of mourning during a work shift was needed before a shoulder to cry on could be extended with any hope of being accepted.

"Ed! There you are!" Bullock made an unexpected appearance, snapping Ed out of his thoughts. "Get your coat. We're heading out."

Edward's brow drew in and he took a long moment to look at Harvey while the man made a 'well get to it' gesture back at him, then asked cautiously, "...For a case?"

"No! For drinks! Like we talked about?"

"Yes, but that was only four hours and," he checked his watch, "twenty-two minutes ago. It's not even two yet."

Harvey threw his arms out, "What are you? The cops? Get your coat. It's drinking time."

He made a shooing motion and turned back toward the bullpen. Ed fought his natural instincts - stay at work and do his job - and hurried back to his office to grab his coat. He didn't want Harvey to decide to never invite him again by missing this even if he was now skipping work to bar hop before two in the afternoon.

First Oswald, then Kristen, now Bullock: so many new friendship things to navigate and no idea how to do any of it right.

...and he really hoped he wouldn't get in trouble with Captain Essen over leaving the office so early.


	12. Calm

"What is  _he_ doing here?" Oswald hissed at Butch, grabbing his second by the lapel and dragging him down so he could chastise him to his face. "You know we can't be seen in public together!"

"I don't know boss!" Butch protested, looking and sounding genuine and considering he couldn't lie to Oswald, the mob boss had to take him at his word. Oswald released him and grimaced, hopping around in a circle to get his anger out since being any louder would draw the unwanted attention of the trio they were currently spying on.

Butch straightened up, keeping his voice low, "Might be they're just stopping on the way to a crime scene? Bullock and Gordon like him, but they don't hang out with him, you know? Strictly a working relationship sort of thing."

Oswald sucked in a breath. It was true. The digging he'd had done on Edward made it very clear that the man had a woefully lacking social life, both at work and away from it. Surprising, really, considering how much fun he was to be around. Most of the time. But everyone had their moments of annoyance so that really shouldn't be held against him.

He took in another breath, settling himself and his temper, then nodded decisively, "Alright. Go see what they want and send them on their way. If they ask for me, and Gordon  _will_ ask for me, tell them I'm out on business. That will avoid any awkwardness pertaining to Eh-" he caught himself and finished a second later with: "Mr. Nygma."

"You got it," Butch answered, shaking his head and walking off, taking the hidden passage out to the office and then the public halls to the entry. 

Oswald continued to watch through the spyhole and held his breath as soon as Butch appeared. He couldn't hear very well through the wall, but Butch was putting on a good front of being completely disinterested in Edward - despite Ed's friendly wave 'hello' from the back of the group - while telling Gordon and Bullock where they could shove it. Even with the noise heavily muffled, it was obvious how hostile the short conversation was. The most he could hear was a very rude "same to you!" from Bullock as the group left, Edward looking a bit mortified as he allowed both detectives to pass before he followed after. He did hesitate a moment to give another wave to Butch, which Butch rolled his eyes at, but returned. And then he was gone, hurrying after the two like a puppy begging for scraps.

God he deserved so much better than what he was getting at the GCPD. Oswald wondered if he even realized how much better he could have it. Probably not. That might be something Oswald would have to show him.

He waited for a count of five after the group was gone from the entryway, then turned and left the small room, entering his office with just enough time to seat himself before Butch came through the door. His second shut it behind him and approached, claiming a chair across from him and getting comfortable before he started to talk.

"They wanted to know what the catch is."

Oswald raised his eyebrows, "The catch?"

"For the information and evidence against Flass. You got them worried you'll call in a marker on them they ain't ready for."

"Well," Oswald considered, leaning back in his chair, "That's something worth holding onto, then. Like a knife against their neck."

"Thought we weren't going to ask them for anything. Since it was for your man."

"They don't know that." A pause and Oswald's eyes slid over to Butch, "They  _don't_ know that, do they?"

Butch shook his head and spread his hands in a 'do you take me for an idiot' gesture, "No. Course not. But he's terrible at pretending not to know someone. Waved at me twice. Think we got lucky that Gordon and Bullock just took it as him being friendly in the general sense..."

"Yes, I caught that," Oswald sighed, "I'll talk to him on our next date. I'm sure he'll understand. Anything else?"

"Nah. They didn't like hearing you weren't in, but they didn't question it."

"Good."

The two settled into silence. Oswald into his thoughts and Butch waiting for instructions or, failing that, the signal that he could leave. It didn't come for several long minutes and when it did, it came with new orders, "I'm going to see my mother today. Postpone my other appointments. Have Gabe bring the car around."

If Butch was surprised, it didn't show. He just pushed himself out of his chair with a 'you got it, boss' and left Os to his thoughts.

Maybe it was time to ask mother about father. How they met. How they courted. How she knew. When she knew. She didn't like to talk about him because his death hurt, but maybe she'd be willing to talk about the rest. About their love. Give him a guide on this new path he was walking.

*********

Gertrude started the visit as she often did: with lamentations that her son had abandoned her for someone else. Always a painted lady in her mind. And this time, when she made the accusation he had to stand there and suck in a very deep breath before saying, "Actually, it's a man."

This stopped his mother in her tracks. The words dying her mouth as she stood there, staring at him, blinking only once as confusion took over.

"It's not a painted lady, mother," he clarified, shutting the door behind him and stepping into the room properly, his hands falling to his side. "It's a man. I have met someone. His name is Edward and he's a very nice young man. Nothing painted or demonic about him."

Gertrude's brows furrowed and her lips pursed in clear judgement and mistrust, "If he is so nice, why is he stealing my son away from me? Why has he not come to meet me?" She hurried over to Oswald and lightly slapped his chest, "And you! Why do you not tell me of this before now? My own child! Leaving me for a pretty face!"

Oswald rolled his eyes and tossed his head back.

"Do not give me that!" his mother chided, throwing her hands into the air. "You are the one keeping secrets from your poor mother. Making her worry with long absences."

"I didn't tell you about him until now because I wasn't sure if he was the one!" he answered, exasperated. "I'm still not sure! But I think he might be! And you always told me, life only gives you one..."

"But you do not know if he is the one!" she countered, taking his words and using them against him. "Instead you sneak around and say nothing to me. You do not let me meet him. You do not let me see him. You do not let me see you! Weeks I am here wondering if my son is being bullied or has been hurt. But it's some man off the street that has taken him!"

"He's not a man of the street, mother!" he protested, walking the length of the room to collapse into his chair so he didn't have to put weight on his leg during what was apparently going to be a rather drawn out argument. "He's in forensics! He's a- a scientist!"

That gave his mother pause. She pulled into herself, straightening her shoulders as she considered the statement. Then spoke with clipped words, "And this scientist. Does he know you have ignored your mother for his sake?"

"No, I haven't said anything about you-" He realized that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth.

"So you are ashamed of me! Not a word about your mother as you gallivant around with him! Letting him lead you on! Letting him do- who knows what you have let him do! All the while your mother is here at home, sick with worry and you have not even a thought to her because of this-this-Scientist!"

"That's not what I meant-"

"It is what you said!" she interrupted, stomping toward him, finger wagging accusingly. "You forgot about me because of a pretty face. It does not have to be painted to be wicked!"

"He's not wicked, mother!" his words were louder than they needed to be, but with her in a tizzy it was often the only way to get a word in edgewise, "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to bring him home to you without him being... the one! I like him! A lot! But I don't  _know!_ " 

She was close enough to grab her hand, so he did, pulling it into his chest and wrapping his arms around her arm in a semblance of a hug that forced her to stand next to him and let him lean his head into her chest. 

"I need your advice, mother," he pleaded softly, not looking up and taking advantage of his position to appeal to her. She liked it when he was attentive and affectionate and looked to her for guidance. "I think I might love him, but I need to know if he's the one for me before I... before I give him my heart completely. I don't know what I'm supposed to look for. What I'm supposed to feel. I've never had this before and I don't want to mess it up. Please, mother. Tell me how I'll know."

Her free hand settled into his hair and in seconds she was making gentle, soothing noises, that were just loud enough to be heard, "Oh, my poor Oswald. In love. It's such a beautiful thing. But it can be so painful. You need to know if he's the one. I cannot tell you if he is. It's something you know. Something you will know when you are ready to know."

"But you knew, didn't you?"

"I did not know for sure until... until the night we shared that brought you into my life," she confessed, sadness in her tone. The same deep regret that always came when she spoke of father, in the brief moments she chose to. "If he is the one, you must run to him. But if he is not... do not let him ensnare you and hurt you with love that isn't true. No one should be hurt that way, more so my Oswald."

He sighed and leaned into her, "I'm trying, mother. I am."

"I know. I can see it. Oh, my poor boy. Stay with your mother tonight."

Oswald shut his eyes and sighed again, agreeing. Maybe after they both calmed down some and she fed him as she always enjoyed doing, and she was reassured she wasn't losing him, he'd be able to get something more concrete out of her. After all, he really did need his mother's advice this time.

 


End file.
